O thou who giving helm and sword, Gav'st too the rusting rain, And starry dark's all tender dews To blunt and stain: Out of the battle I am sped, Unharmed, yet stricken sore; A living shape amid whispering shades On Lethe's shore. No trophy in my hands I bring, To this sad, sighing stream, The neighings and the trumps and cries Were but a dream. Traitor to life, of life betrayed O, of thy mercy deep, A dream my all, the all I ask Is sleep. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TAM O' SHANTER by ROBERT BURNS UPON BEN JONSON [JOHNSON] by ROBERT HERRICK A LITTLE WHILE by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI THE HOUSE OF LIFE: 97. A SUPERSCRIPTION by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI MRS. HARRIS'S PETITION: TO EXCELLENCIES THE LORDS JUSTICES OF IRELAND by JONATHAN SWIFT L. OF G.'S PURPORT by WALT WHITMAN EMBLEMS OF LOVE: 14. THE POWERFUL ATTRACTION by PHILIP AYRES |