who did the talking, when Geronimo surrendered to General
Where Kishon chafes his seaward-going tide;
This was the sword that smote till set of sun
Red Gath, from Michmash unto Ajalon,
Low in the dust. And Israel scattered far!
And dead the trumps and crushed the hoofs of war!
So fell the king, as it was said by him
Who hid his forehead in a mantle dim
At bleak Endor, what time unholy rites