THEY have met at last -- as storm-clouds Meet in heaven, And the Northmen back and bleeding Have been driven; And their thunders have been stilled, And their leaders crushed or killed, And their ranks with terror thrilled, Rent and riven! Like the leaves of Vallambrosa They are lying; In the moonlight, in the midnight, Dead and dying; Like those leaves before the gale, Swept their legions, wild and pale; While the host that made them quail Stood, defying. When aloft in morning sunlight Flags were flaunted, And "swift vengeance on the rebel" Proudly vaunted: Little did they think that night Should close upon their shameful flight, And rebels, victors in the fight, Stand undaunted. But peace to those who perished In our passes! Light be the earth above them; Green the grasses! Long shall Northmen rue the day When they met our stern array, And shrunk from battle's wild affray At Manassas. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE CHIMNEY SWEEPER, FR. SONGS OF EXPERIENCE by WILLIAM BLAKE EMERSON by MARY ELIZABETH MAPES DODGE PLACES: 2. FULL MOON (SANTA BARBARA) by SARA TEASDALE SONG OF THE SPANISH JEWS by GRACE AGUILAR VACANT STALL by ELIZABETH WILCOX BEASLEY ONCE & EVER by JOSEPH BEAUMONT |