ON BOSWORTH FIELD

By Olive Tilford Dargan

Here, Richard, didst thou fall, caparisoned

With kingdoms of thy lust;

And here wouldst lie, by Fame's bent gleaners shunned,

But came unto thy dust

A swaggerer, perdy!

Who cried “A horse, a horse!” and straight

Thou wert abroad again on kingly feet

To tread eternity.