FOR action born, existing to be tried, Powers manifold we have that intervene To stir the heart that would too closely screen Her peace from images to pain allied. What wonder if at midnight, by the side Of Sanguinetto, or broad Thrasymene, The clang of arms is heard, and phantoms glide, Unhappy ghosts in troops by moonlight seen; And singly thine, O vanquished Chief! whose corse, Unburied, lay hid under heaps of slain: But who is He? -- the Conqueror. Would he force His way to Rome? Ah, no, -- round hill and plain Wandering, he haunts, at fancy's strong command, This spot -- his shadowy death-cup in his hand. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE KLONDIKE by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON RAIN by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON SABBATH HYMN by SOLOMON BEN MOSES HA-LEVI ALKABEZ THE VIGIL OF JOSEPH by ELSA BARKER IN SOME FAR DISTANT TIME by CATHERINE BRADSHAW MILLICENT by ROBERT SEYMOUR BRIDGES THE FISHERMAN'S WIFE by ALICE CARY THE WOLF, THE HORNET, AND THE NIGHTINGALE by STANTON ARTHUR COBLENTZ |