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...MISSING THE BO IN THE HENHOUSE by HAYDEN CARRUTH GETTING A WORD IN by JAMES GALVIN BURIAL OF MOSES by CECIL FRANCES ALEXANDER THE LAND OF DREAMS by WILLIAM BLAKE 1914: 5. THE SOLDIER by RUPERT BROOKE VISIONS: 4. A ROSE by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) TO THE AUTHOR OF 'THE ROBBERS' (SCHILLER) by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE |