And if ye marvel that mine eye doth glow Now every pulse of fervid youth is lost, Ye never heard the kingly trumpets blow - Nor felt the fieldward stirring of a host; Nor how the bayonet assures the hand That it can never fail - while Death doth stand Amid the thunders of the reckless drum, And the loud scorn of fifes, ashamed and dumb - Nor, when the noble revel dies away, How proud they lie upon the stained mould, A presence too majestic to gainsay, Of lordly martial bearing, mute and cold, Which honour knows o' th' instant! such as lay On Morat late, or Marathon of old! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE DESOLATE FIELD by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS THE DESERTER['S MEDITATION] by JOHN PHILPOT CURRAN CANZONET: TO HIS COY LOVE by MICHAEL DRAYTON ON EXPLORATION by JAMES GALVIN MORITURI SALUTAMUS [WE WHO ARE TO DIE SALUTE YOU] by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW DEWEY IN MANILA BAY [MAY 1, 1898] by RICHARD VORHEES RISLEY TO HIS WORSHIPFULL GOOD FRIEND, MAISTER JOHN STEVENTON by RICHARD BARNFIELD |