THE dead have been awaken'd -- shall I sleep? The World's at war with tyrants -- shall I crouch? I crouch? The harvest's ripe -- and shall I pause to reap? I slumber not; the thorn is in my Couch; Each day a trumpet soundeth in mine ear, Its echo in my heart -- | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONNETS TO LAURA IN LIFE: 131 by PETRARCH ELEGIAC SONNET: 7. ON THE DEPARTURE OF THE NIGHTINGALE by CHARLOTTE SMITH THE REASON by LEONARD BACON (1887-1954) OLD REMEDIES by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN ROSETTE by HEINRICH CHRISTIAN BOIE A CHILD'S GRACE AT FLORENCE; A.A.E.C. by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING |