"O Richard, O mon roi." So minstrels sighed. The many-centuried voice dies fast away Amidst the turmoil of our modern day. How know we but these green-wreathed legends hide An ugly truth that never could abide In this our living world's far purer air? -- Nevertheless, O statue, rest thou there, Our Richard, of all chivalry the pride; Or if not the true Richard, still a type Of the old regal glory, fallen, o'er-ripe, And giving place to better blossoming: Stand -- imaging the grand heroic days; And let our little children come and gaze, Whispering with innocent awe -- "This was a King." | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO A DOG'S MEMORY by LOUISE IMOGEN GUINEY THE TABLES TURNED by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH GREENES FUNERALLS: SONNET 4 by RICHARD BARNFIELD GREEN LEAVES AND SERE by MATHILDE BLIND THE GRIEVINGS OF A PROUD SPIRIT by GEORGE CROLY |