His brow is…


……seamed with line and scar;
His cheek is red and dark as wine;
The fires as of a Northern star
Beneath his cap of sable shine.

His right hand, bared of leathern glove,
Hangs open like an iron gin,
You stoop to see his pulses move,
To hear the blood sweep out and in.

He looks some king, so solitary
In earnest thought he seems to stand,
As if across a lonely sea
He gazed impatient of the land.

Out of the noisy centuries
The foolish and the fearful fade;
Yet burn unquenched these warrior eyes,
Time hath not dimmed, nor death dismayed.

Source: Walter de la Mare, The Portrait of a Warrior

Photo: found @ Old Pictures

Inky’s Take: Irrepressible, the eyes are strong, unflinching though weather-beaten and aged.  They challenge offering a dare…

..and I want to take it.  Can you imagine the knowledge held there, the freedom, the bravery, the wildness.  It calls to me…

..I want to answer.

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