Fancy Dress

Some Brave, awake in you to-night, Knocked at your heart: an eagle’s flight Stirred in the feather on your head. Your wide-set Indian eyes, alight Above high cheek-bones smeared with red, Unveiled cragg’d centuries, and led You, the snared wraith of bygone things— Wild ancestries of trackless Kings— Out of the past ... So men have felt Strange anger move them as they knelt Praying to gods serenely starred In heavens where tomahawks are barred.