The English spirits round me are mine own.— The Vikings' yearning is within my blood; The grey dim splendid endless ocean-flood Whose seething spray against my lips is thrown, Upward and shoreward by the salt winds blown, Is that whereon their white-sailed fierce ships stood:— And every tide hath laved our walls of wood, And every shore hath heard our cannons' tone. Though Greece be dear, yet am I of the race That held the blood-stained plain of Waterloo, Hour after hour, each soldier in his place, Till sunset slipped their tight-strained leash,—and who (One small ship's obstinate and dauntless crew) Looked the whole Spanish navy in the face. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE CLERKS by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON CHAMPAGNE, 1914-1915 by ALAN SEEGER THE PERSIANS (PERSAE): SALAMIS - MESSENGER by AESCHYLUS LES HALLES D'YPRES by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN HINC LACHRIMAE; OR THE AUTHOR TO AURORA: 19 by WILLIAM BOSWORTH BEFORE AND AFTER by OLIVER MADOX BROWN BRITANNIA'S PASTORALS: BOOK 2. THE FIRST SONG by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) |