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...DAYS TOO SHORT by WILLIAM HENRY DAVIES TO THE BOY by ELIZABETH CLEMENTINE DODGE KINNEY SANDALPHON by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW WHEN THE COWS COME HOME by AGNES E. MITCHELL MONNA INNOMINATA, A SONNET OF SONNETS: 13 by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI |