Bryson Burroughs, American
When D’Artagnan and His Crew Awoke To Find Their Luggage Had Been Stolen, They Were Forced To Improvise, 1917
Oil on canvas
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Info, or links that point to more info, about this artist can be found here, here, here, here, here, here, and here, perhaps in addition to what’s in his Wikipedia page.
/// Archers stand on a crag out of reach
of twelve enemies down on the beach.
They take aim at the river
with three bows, (not one quiver),
but don’t shoot— they’ve got one arrow each.
/// True, there are a few shafts at their feet,
but look close— they are not quite complete.
“Where’s the point?” you may carp.
If the points aren’t sharp,
then your foes you will never defeat.
/// To add spice to their archery craft,
they made bets as they fired each shaft.
And the archer who lost
shed some garb as the cost.
Now they’re, each of them, feeling a draft.
/// One advantage they have in this fight:
these three pull back for range but not height.
The more numerous foe
shoots from way down below,
so their arrows slow up in their flight.
/// The three archers right arms are all weary,
and their “aiming” eyes start to get bleary.
But with grit they are full,
for it takes lots of pull
to apply do-or-die bow-string theory.
/// The amount of sheer strength each man shows
can be seen in the bend of their bows.
To achieve highest speed
in your arrows, you need
the taut string pulled back way past your nose.
/// Lifeless trees where they make their last stand
grew from cracks in the rock filled with sand.
This sad desolate place
of their final disgrace:
To be killed by a better dressed band.