Far inland here Death's pinions mocked the roar Of English seas; We sleep to wake no more, Hushed, and at ease; Till sound a trump, shore on to echoing shore, Rouse from a peace, unwonted then to war, Us and our enemies. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...VARIATIONS FOR A SUMMER EVENING by MICHAEL ANANIA THE CONFESSIONAL by ROBERT BROWNING WYNKEN, BLYNKEN AND NOD by EUGENE FIELD EPITAPH (ON A COMMONPLACE PERSON WHO DIED IN BED) by AMY LEVY BUONAPARTE by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH |