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The Warrior

Had in his hand a sword four half,
Had in his mind a plan,
Had in his breath the power
Of twenty a hard-willed man.

Yet, as echoed the battle cry,
And down set the fiery sun
Above weapon clashing on with weapon,
Felled he was by stroke twenty-one.

What lack did he, that man 
Who roused all men and child?
And brought into the confines of tamed
All that once roamed wild?

What lack did he, that man,
Spelled whose name did power?
Tall and strong who stood,
But could gently handle a flower?

Alas! For him the enemy went
By the name of arrogance,
Rising from which carelessness
Undid his final stance.

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