TheArtistOfKouroo

He brushed his wavy hair from his pale face Just like his horse was shaking off the flies While following behind. Their limping pace Was slow, although the city rang with cries Surprised from friends who thought that he was dead-- But still his head slumped down, and still his eyes And clammy cheeks were flushed with streaking red, Though they were running, dashing to his side. And then his young brother, half-laughing, said, "Oh god, I thought--you know we thought you died? That awful task--you left, you rode away-- And then did not come back. Oh, how I cried! I thought you died. On last year's new-year's day A year since you ha