Lucy Weatherby, reining a bright bay mare, Played with the braided lash of a riding-whip And talked to Wingate’s father with smiling eyes, While Huger Shepley tried to put in a word And the whole troop clustered about her. Her habit was black But she had a knot of bright ribbons pinned at her breast, Red and blue⁠—the Confederate colors. They had cheered her. They had cheered her, riding along with her colored ribbons. It was that which had killed the instant. Sally looked At the face with the new moustache she had to remember. “Goodbye,” she said. The face bent over her hand And kissed it acceptably. Then the face had gone. He was back with the others now. She watched for a minute. Lucy was unpinning her knot of ribbons. She saw a dozen hands go up for the knot And Lucy laugh her sweet laugh and shake her bright head,