Which of the Two shall be victor at last,
After this desperate battle is done?
Temper the wind, for the shorn strength fails fast.
Look how the yellow Life shakes with the sun
It has fed on afar in wastes of its own!
Then the cruel wild glitter of sand
Looks hot in its eye! Shall I stand,
And watch them, and leave them alone?
Let them fight on, as they will and they must-
Yet somehow the one is so pretty and white!
Say, dainty wool, must the blood and the dust
Hide your soft snowiness all from my sight?
A timida bleat goes to the skies:
The Lamb of the Two is the strong!
Sarah M.B. Piatt
