The Fanatic

Like Don Quixote, I tilted at a windmill.
On my good, grey horse I spurred at it,
Galloping heavily over the plain.
My lance pierced the framework of a sail and stuck there,
And the impact sent me sprawling on the ground.
My horse wandered away, cropping,
But I started up and fell upon the windmill,
With my dagger unsheathed.
Valiantly I stabbed a dipping sail,
But it rose before I could withdraw the weapon,
And the blade went up with it, gleaming -- flickering.
Then I drew a pistol,
For I am an up-to-date knight
And my armory unrivalled.

I aimed above me,

At the sky between two sails.

Ping! went the bullet,

And a round, blue eye peeked at me through the wheeling sail.
I fired again --
Two eyes winked at me, jeering.
Then I ran at the windmill with my fists,
But it struck me down and left me.
All night I lay there,

And the great sails turned about and about,

And brushed me with their shadows,
For there was a moon.