YOU must fly, ye winds of Tartary! If ye hope to catch our band; For they skim o'er the tall rank grasses, And tramp on the wastes of sand, Swifter than winds or waters, With their long spears in their hand! Ride on! ride on, brave Cossacks! For never a foe will stand; Ye shall break and scatter their craven ranks, As your mad steeds scatter the sand: The devil himself would run from you, With your long spears in your hand! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ETERNITY BLUES by HAYDEN CARRUTH MISSING THE BO IN THE HENHOUSE by HAYDEN CARRUTH THE HILL ABOVE THE MINE by MALCOLM COWLEY MATERNITY by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON DOMESDAY BOOK: LOVERIDGE CHASE by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |