THE dead have been awaken'd -- shall I sleep? The World's at war with tyrants -- shall I crouch? I crouch? The harvest's ripe -- and shall I pause to reap? I slumber not; the thorn is in my Couch; Each day a trumpet soundeth in mine ear, Its echo in my heart -- | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MY ORCHA'D IN LINDEN LEA by WILLIAM BARNES TENEBRIS by ANGELINA WELD GRIMKE THE PRINCESS: SONG by ALFRED TENNYSON EL HOMBRE by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS THE MARCH OF XERXES by LUIGI ALAMANNI DECEMBER by ELIZABETH V. AUVACHE |