The dews drop slowly and dreams gather: unknown spears Suddenly hurtle before my dream-awakened eyes, And then the clash of fallen horsemen and the cries Of unknown perishing armies beat about my ears. We who still labour by the cromlech on the shore, The gray cairn on the hill, when day sinks drowned in dew, Being weary of the world's empires, bow down to you, Master of the still stars and of the flaming door. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SILLER CROUN by SUSANNA BLAMIRE THE LAST WORD OF A BLUEBIRD; AS TOLD TO A CHILD by ROBERT FROST THE GODS OF THE COPYBOOK HEADINGS by RUDYARD KIPLING THE SOLSEQUIUM by ALEXANDER MONTGOMERIE HOPEFULLY WAITING by ANSON DAVIES FITZ RANDOLPH FAR - FAR - AWAY (FOR MUSIC) by ALFRED TENNYSON COMPOSED UPON WESTMINSTER BRIDGE, SEPTEMBER 3, 1802 by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH TO MR. MONTGOMERY; OCCASIONED BY ... ATTACK ON HIS POEMS by LUCY AIKEN |