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...THE SCHRECKHORN by THOMAS HARDY THE ROSY BOSOM'D HOURS by COVENTRY KERSEY DIGHTON PATMORE SONNETS OF MANHOOD: 31. A QUESTION by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) L'OISEAU BLEU (AFTER CHARLES CONDER) by GORDON BOTTOMLEY A SOLILOQUY ON THE COURSE AND CONSQUENCE OF A DOUBTING MIND by JOHN BYROM UT TUTO AB ATRIS CORPORE VIPERIS ... by JOHN BYROM |