Wake: the silver dusk returning Up the beach of darkness brims, And the ship of sunrise burning Strands upon the eastern rims. Wake: the vaulted shadow shatters, Trampled to the floor it spanned, And the tent of night in tatters Straws the sky-pavilioned land. Up, lad, up, 'tis late for lying: Hear the drums of morning play; Hark, the empty highways crying Who'll beyond the hills away?' Towns and countries woo together, Forelands beacon, belfries call; Never lad that trod on leather Lived to feast his heart with all. Up, lad: thews that lie and cumber Sunlit pallets never thrive; Morns abed and daylight slumber Were not meant for man alive. Clay lies still, but blood's a rover; Breath's a ware that will not keep. Up, lad: when the journey's over There'll be time enough to sleep. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE FALL; A GREAT FAVORIT BEHEADED by LUIS DE GONGORA AFTER THE BURIAL by JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL GIRL TO SOLDIER ON LEAVE by ISAAC ROSENBERG TO THE RAILROAD MEN by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS THE MONITOR by CHARLES BAUDELAIRE SUNDERED PATHS by MATHILDE BLIND BATTALION IN REST by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN |