THE battle-smoke still fouled the day, With bright disaster flaming through; Unchecked, absorbed, she held her way— The whispering death still past her flew. A cross of red was on her sleeve; And here she stayed, the wound to bind, And there, the fighting soul relieve, That strove its Unknown Peace to find. A cross of red ... yet one has dreamed Of her he loved and left in tears; But unto dying sight she seemed A visitant from other spheres. The whispering death—it nearer drew, It holds her heart in strict arrest ... And where was one, are crosses two— A crimson cross is on her breast! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A LONDON FETE by COVENTRY KERSEY DIGHTON PATMORE THE BOATMAN by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI DISILLUSIONMENT OF TEN O'CLOCK by WALLACE STEVENS FIDELITY by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH SONNET: TO SLEEP by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH THE LAST MAN: RECOGNITION by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES OVER THE ROSE-LEAVES, UNDER THE ROSE by JOHN BENNETT (1865-1956) IN VINCULIS; SONNETS WRITTEN IN AN IRISH PRISON: A LESSON IN HUMILITY by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT |