No more the plains of Europe blushing red Beneath his foot;—nor Paris full of flame Of triumph,—ringing with the Conqueror's name,— And the Cæsarian laurel round his head. No more for him his countless armies led The countless armies of the world to tame, And necks of kings to bend to lowliest shame; No more wide moonlit acres of his dead. No more the black plumes of his Cuirassiers,— The Old Guard's white facings, and the breathless glee Of mingled battle, and the glittering tiers Of bayonets, and sword-sheen. Alone for thee, World-conqueror, shine this island's rocky spears, And that grey weaponless unconquered sea. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE VANISHING BOAT by EDMUND WILLIAM GOSSE WHICH WAS MOST TRULY DEAD? by CHARLES AUGUSTIN SAINTE-BEUVE ADDRESS TO THE MUMMY AT BELZONI'S EXHIBITION by HORACE SMITH THE DOVE by ABUL HASAN OF SEVILLE THE HIRED MAN by EVA K. ANGLESBURG |