SEE how that small concentrate fiery force Is grappling with the glory of the main, That follows, like some grave heroic corse, Dragged by a suttler from the heap of slain. Thy solemn presence brings us more than pain -- Something which Fancy moulds into remorse, That We, who of thine honour hold the gain, Should from its dignity thy form divorce. Yet will we read in thy high-vaunting Name, How Britain did what France could only @3dare@1, And, while the sunset gilds the darkening air, We will fill up thy shadowy lines with fame, And, tomb or temple, hail thee still the same, Home of great thoughts, memorial Temeraire! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE BLIND GOD by ISAAC ROSENBERG I LOVE ALL BEAUTEOUS THINGS by ROBERT SEYMOUR BRIDGES A VALEDICTION: FORBIDDING MOURNING by JOHN DONNE THE OWL CRITIC by JAMES THOMAS FIELDS CEREMONIES FOR CHRISTMAS (1) by ROBERT HERRICK BALLAD OF THE GOODLY FERE by EZRA POUND |