O SIRS, I have not seen him A hundred hundred years. 'Neath this rust rose he drooped his head Sleeping a hundred years. I slept: he stirred, but I slept on: O Sirs, and when I woke he'd gone. Even the worms could find him not: A hundred years they sought. Ants and bees a hundred years Travelling found him not. ... O Sirs, but like a bubble he Shone in his bright helm's bravery. As tall as trees he had a spear, And a horse like a hill; But when he slept he was as small As the blue stars, and as still. O Sirs, and will he with the stars Come back after a hundred years? Sleeping, I dreamed I saw him Ride slowly from long wars, Upon a white hill for a horse, Crowned with the silver stars. O then, single beneath the sky While I slept he rode slowly by. O Sirs, but had ye loved him Ye had caught him as he went. O were there kindness in these flowers Their kindness had they lent. None cared; all nodded, and I slept ... O Sirs, a hundred years I've wept. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE LITTLE DANCERS by LAURENCE BINYON A FRAGMENT by GEORGE GORDON BYRON THE OLD SCOTTISH CAVALIER by WILLIAM EDMONSTOUNE AYTOUN THE WILD GEESE by MICHAEL JOSEPH BARRY S. BARTHOLOMEW by JOSEPH BEAUMONT THE VEIL by HARRY RANDOLPH BLYTHE JOHANNES MILTON, SENEX by ROBERT SEYMOUR BRIDGES ON THE MEANING OF ST. PAUL'S EXPRESSION OF SPEAKING WITH TONGUES by JOHN BYROM |