CONAN's name, my lay, rehearse, Build to him the lofty verse, Sacred tribute of the bard, Verse, the hero's sole reward. As the flame's devouring force; As the whirlwind in its course; As the thunder's fiery stroke, Glancing on the shiver'd oak; Did the sword of Conan mow The crimson harvest of the foe. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...NURSING HOME: THE DOLL by KAREN SWENSON MY HEART'S IN THE HIGHLANDS by ROBERT BURNS SONNET by GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS I LIFT MY CANDLE by ELLEN ANDERSON QUATORZAINS: 8. TO SILENCE by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES BOOKS ET VERITAS by WILLIAM ROSE BENET AVE MARIA IN ROME by MATHILDE BLIND |