DOWN the hill path echo the hoof-beats hollow, The empty saddle sways; Sadly the road that weary feet must follow Winds through the darkling braes. Soft fall the clansman voices, hushed, complete in A pathos worse than woe; Meet tongue indeed to murmur of defeat in— The Gaelic, gentle, low! Up in the cliffs the raven cries for slaughter, The caustic croaking mocks A beaten man whose heart is in the water That squelches in his socks. Bird of ill omen, sombre and accurst one, Be still upon your crag, You surely don't suppose that I'm the first one Who missed a rotten stag? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...YOUTH AND ART by ROBERT BROWNING THE RAVEN; A CHRISTMAS TALE, TOLD BY A SCHOOL-BOY by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE SEVEN TIMES TWO [ - ROMANCE] by JEAN INGELOW MONT BLANC; LINES WRITTEN IN THE VALE OF CHAMOUNI by PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY THE GARDEN OF PROSERPINE by ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE DAVIDS ELEGIE UPON JONATHAN by JOSEPH BEAUMONT FIAMMETT: SONNET. OF FIAMMETTA SINGING by GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO |