WHILE on my cheek the sour and savage wind Confuses soul with sense, while unamazed I view the siege of pale-starred horror raised By dawn whose waves charge stern and crimson-lined, In cold blue tufts of battle-smoke afar, And sable crouching thickets by my way -- While I thus droop, the living land grows gay With starry welcomes to the conquering star! From every look-out whence they watch him win (That angry Cromwell!) high on thorn and bine The selfless wildbirds hail their holy light: With changes free as flute or violin, To naked fields they peal as proud and fine As though they had not dreamed of death all night. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SUPPLIANTS: PRAYER FOR DELIVERANCE. CHORUS by AESCHYLUS DIRGE by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH RIDDLE by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD TO THE HONOURABLE AND VIRTUOUS LADY, THE LADY TASBURGH by WILLIAM BASSE |