THE large report of fame I lack, And shining clasps and crimson scars, For I have held my bivouac Alone amid the untroubled stars. My battle-field has known no dawn Beclouded by a thousand spears; I've been no mounting tyrant's pawn To buy his glory with my tears. It never seemed a noble thing Some little leagues of land to gain From broken men, nor yet to fling Abroad the thunderbolts of pain. Yet I have felt the quickening breath As peril heavy peril kissed -- My weapon was a little faith, And fear was my antagonist. Not a brief hour of cannonade, But many days of bitter strife, Till God of His great pity laid Across my brow the leaves of life. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BALLAD OF THE GIBBET by FRANCOIS VILLON WHEN WILL LOVE COME? by PAKENHAM THOMAS BEATTY THE BAY FIGHT by HENRY HOWARD BROWNELL FOR MY OWN TOMBSTONE by MATTHEW PRIOR THE HOUSE OF LIFE: 90. 'RETRO ME, SATHANA!' by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI THE RAGGED WOOD by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS JUDGES: SONG OF DEBORAH; FRAGMENTS by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE |