HUNGER, and sultry heat, and nipping blast From bleak hill-top, and length of march by night Through heavy swamp, or over snow-clad height -- These hardships ill-sustained, these dangers past, The roving Spanish Bands are reached at last, Charged, and dispersed like foam: but as a flight Of scattered quails by signs do reunite, So these, -- and, heard of once again, are chased With combinations of long-practised art And newly-kindled hope; but they are fled -- Gone are they, viewless as the buried dead: Where now? -- Their sword is at the Foeman's heart; And thus from year to year his walk they thwart, And hang like dreams around his guilty bed. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ALIENS (TO YOU - EVERYWHERE! DEDICATED) by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE OLD MEN by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS FIRST BOOK OF AIRS: SONG 11 by THOMAS CAMPION TO HIS WATCH, WHEN HE COULD NOT SLEEP by EDWARD HERBERT THE NEW INN: A VISION OF BEAUTY by BEN JONSON THE FOUNTAIN by JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL HOW THE CUMBERLAND WENT DOWN [MARCH 8, 1862] by SILAS WEIR MITCHELL |