OUT of the fields I see them pass, Youth's own battalion -- Like moonlight ghosting over grass, To dark oblivion. They have a wintry march to go -- Bugle and fife and drum! With music softer than the snow- Fall, flurrying, they come! They have a solemn tryst to keep Out on the starry heath; To fling them down, and sleep and sleep Beyond Reveille -- Death! Since Youth has vanished from our eyes, Who of us glad can be? Who will be grieving, when he dies And leaves this Calvary? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TAM O' SHANTER by ROBERT BURNS JABBERWOCKY by CHARLES LUTWIDGE DODGSON IN THE MOONLIGHT by THOMAS HARDY THE PICTURE OF LITTLE T.C. IN A PROSPECT OF FLOWERS by ANDREW MARVELL A DESCRIPTION OF SUCH A ONE AS HE WOULD LOVE by THOMAS WYATT THE RIVER IN THE MEADOWS by LEONIE ADAMS THE GRASS STEALERS by J. MURRAY ALLISON FRAGMENTS INTENDED FOR DEATH'S JEST-BOOK: SLEEPER'S COUNTENANCE by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES |