ONCE more, ye sacred towers, Your solemn dirges sound; Strew, loving hands, the April flowers, Once more to deck his mound. A nation mourns its dead, Its sorrowing voices one, As Israel's monarch bowed his head And cried, "My son! My son!" Why mourn for him? -- For him The welcome angel came Ere yet his eye with age was dim Or bent his stately frame; His weapon still was bright, His shield was lifted high To slay the wrong, to save the right, -- What happier hour to die? Thou orderest all things well; Thy servant's work was done; He lived to hear Oppression's knell, The shouts for Freedom won. Hark! from the opening skies The anthem's echoing swell, -- "O mourning Land, lift up thine eyes! God reigneth. All is well!" | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONGS OF EXPERIENCE: INTRODUCTION by WILLIAM BLAKE DICING by AGATHIAS SCHOLASTICUS TO HIS MISTRESS; AN ODE by ANACREON JOHN THE BAPTIST by JOHN STUART BLACKIE THREE MINUS ONE (REFRAIN SUGGESTED BY DR. RICHARD HOFFMAN) by BERTON BRALEY CHORIAMBICS: 1 by RUPERT BROOKE PARLEYINGS WITH CERTAIN PEOPLE OF IMPORTANCE: APOLLO AND THE FATES by ROBERT BROWNING |