HERE, lonely, wounded and apart, From out my casement's glimmering round, I watch the wayward bluebirds dart Across yon flowery ground; How sweet the prospect! and how fair The balmy peace of earth and air. But, lowering over fields afar, A red cloud breaks with sulphurous breath, And well I know what gory star, Is regnant in his house of death; Yet faint the conflict's gathering roll, To the fierce tempest in my soul. I, who the foremost ranks had led, To strike for cherished home and land, Groan idly on this torturing bed, With broken frame and palsied hand, So nerveless, 'tis a task to scare, The insects fluttering round my hair. O God! for one brief hour again, Of that grim joy my spirit knew, When foemen's life-blood poured like rain, And sabres flashed and trumpets blew: One hour to smite, or smitten die On the wild breast of victory! It may not be; my pulses beat Too feebly, and my heart is chill. Death, like a thief with stealthy feet Draws nigh to work his ruthless will; Hope, Honor, Glory, pass me by, But @3he@1 stands near with mocking eye! Ay, smooth the couch! -- pour out the draught, That, haply, for a season's space, Hath power to charm his fatal shaft, And warn the death-damps off my face, A blest reprieve! -- a wondrous boon, Thank Heaven! this -- all -- ends with me soon. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...OF JACOPO DEL SELLAIO by EZRA POUND WHEN THE KYE CAME HOME by JAMES HOGG HYMNS OF THE MARSHES: MARSH SONG - AT SUNSET by SIDNEY LANIER A BEAUTIFUL YOUNG NYMPH GOING TO BED by JONATHAN SWIFT ON THE COLLAR OF MRS. DINGLEY'S LAP-DOG by JONATHAN SWIFT MADRIGAL by STANISLAUS JEAN DE BOUFFLERS |