Lie down and rest, the fight is done, āàThy comrades to the camp retire; Gaze not so earnestly upon āàThe far gleam of the beacon fire. O list not to the wind-born sounds, āàOf music and of soldiers' cheer; Thou canst not go-remember wounds āàExhaust thy life and hold thee here. Had that hand power to raise the sword āàWhich since this morn laid many low; Had that tongue strength to speak the word, āàThat urged thy followers on the foe; Were that warm blood within thy veins āàWhich now upon the earth is flowing, Splashing its sod with crimson stains, āàRedding the pale heath round thee growing; Then Roderic, thou mightst still be turning āàWith eager eye and anxious breast To where those signal lights are burning, āàTo where thy war-worn comrades rest. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...FIRST FIG by EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY ADDRESS TO THE OCEAN by BRYAN WALLER PROCTER THE HEATHER ON FIRE by MATHILDE BLIND A DAY REMORSEFUL by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN SPRING'S WOOING by NELLIE BRISTOW AN OXFORD IDYLL by THOMAS EDWARD BROWN DUTY by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING |