The ground was level there; the daffodils Glimmered and danced beneath their cautious feet, Quartering for openings for the blow that kills. Beyond the bubbling brook a thrush was sweet. Quickly the footsteps slid; with feint and cheat, The weapons poised and darted and withdrew. "Now stop it," Michael said, "I want to talk to you." "We do not stop till one of us is dead,", Said Lion, rushing in. A short blow fell Dizzily, through all guard, on Michael’s head. His hedging-hook slashed blindly but too well: It struck in Lion’s side. Then, for a spell, Both, sorely stricken, staggered, while their eyes Dimmed under mists of blood; they fell, they tried to rise,-- Tried hard to rise, but could not, so they lay, Watching the clouds go sailing on the sky, Touched with a redness from the end of day. There was all April in the blackbird’s cry. And lying there they felt they had to die, Die and go under mould and feel no more April’s green fire of life go running in earth’s core. "There was no need to hit me," Michael said; "You quiet thinking fellows lose control. This fighting business is a foolish trade. And now we join the grave-worm and the mole. I tried to stop you. You’re a crazy soul; You always were hot-headed. Well, let be: You deep and passionate souls have always puzzled me. "I’m sorry that I struck you. I was hit, And lashed out blindly at you; you were mad. It would be different if you’d stopped a bit. You are too blind when you are angry, lad. Oh, I am giddy, Lion; dying, bad, Dying." He raised himself, he sat, his look Grew greedy for the water bubbling in the brook. And as he watched it, Lion raised his head; Out of a bloodied clump of daffodil. "Michael," he moaned, "I, too, am dying: dead. You’re nearer to the water. Could you fill Your hat and give me drink? Or would it spill? Spill, I expect." "I’ll try," said Michael, "try-- I may as well die trying, since I have to die." Slowly he forced his body’s failing life Down to the water; there he stooped and filled; And as his back turned Lion drew his knife, And hid it close, while all his being thrilled To see, as Michael came, the water spilled, Nearer and ever nearer, bright, so bright. "Drink," muttered Michael, "drink. We two shall sleep to-night." He tilted up the hat, and Lion drank. Lion lay still a moment, gathering power, Then rose, as Michael gave him more, and sank. Then, like a dying bird whom death makes tower, He raised himself above the bloodied flower And struck with all his force in Michael’s side. "You should not have done that," his stricken comrade cried. "No; for I meant to tell you, Lion; meant To tell you; but I cannot now; I die. That hit me to the heart and I am spent. Mary and I have parted; she and I Agreed she must return, lad. That is why I came to see you. She is coming here, Back to your home to-night. Oh, my beloved dear,