THE QUEEN sat in her balcony, <br />The Loveliest of Spain; <br />Beneath rode all the chivalry, <br />And roses fell like rain <br />To crown the gallant gentlemen <br />The gonfalon who bore: <br />A woman’s favor fell for one,— <br />Gil, the Toreador. <br /> <br />Beneath the royal canopy, <br />To see the red bull slain, <br />They sat, like loyal lovers, <br />The King and Queen of Spain. <br />Came marshal, noble, knight and squire, <br />Chulo and picador: <br />Of all a woman saw but one,— <br />Gil, the Toreador. <br /> <br />The trumpets clanged, the sport was on, <br />The royal sport of Spain; <br />Maddened by shouts and thrust of lance <br />The bull now charged amain: <br />Down to their death went chulos then, <br />And many a matador:— <br />A woman only knew there fell <br />Gil, the Toreador. <br /> <br />When through the streets of proud Madrid <br />Swept next the courtly train, <br />Sat not upon her balcony <br />The Loveliest of Spain. <br />Long live the King and his fair Queen, <br />Still loyal thousands roar:— <br />None know what woman died when fell <br />Gil, the Toreador.<br /><br />Charles Harper Webb<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/gil-the-toreador-2/
