IT fell upon us like a crushing woe, Sudden and terrible. "Can it be?" we said "That he from whom we hoped so much, is dead, Most foully murdered ere he met the foe?" Why not? The men that would disrupt the State By such base plots as theirs -- frauds, thefts and lies -- What code of honor do they recognize? They thirst for blood to satisfy their hate, Our blood: so be it; but for every blow Woe shall befall them; not in their wild way, But stern and pitiless, we will repay, Until, like swollen streams, their blood shall flow: And should we pause; the thought of Ellsworth slain, Will steel our aching hearts to strike again! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SWEET STAY-AT-HOME by WILLIAM HENRY DAVIES SWEENEY AMONG THE NIGHTINGALES by THOMAS STEARNS ELIOT THE BOSTON EVENING TRANSCRIPT by THOMAS STEARNS ELIOT A CONSECRATION by JOHN MASEFIELD THE BLUE-FLAG IN THE BOG by EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY THE LORD OF BURLEIGH by ALFRED TENNYSON AMONG THE HEATHER by WILLIAM ALLINGHAM HYMN, COMPOSED FOR THE CHILDREN OF A SUNDAY SCHOOL by BERNARD BARTON |