OUT of the fields I see them pass, Youth's own battalion -- Like moonlight ghosting over grass, To dark oblivion. They have a wintry march to go -- Bugle and fife and drum! With music softer than the snow- Fall, flurrying, they come! They have a solemn tryst to keep Out on the starry heath; To fling them down, and sleep and sleep Beyond Reveille -- Death! Since Youth has vanished from our eyes, Who of us glad can be? Who will be grieving, when he dies And leaves this Calvary? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SECOND BROTHER; ACT 2, SCENE 1 by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES PSALM 43. JUDICA ME DEUS by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE INTRODUCTORY AND VALEDICTORY by LEVI BISHOP MILTON AT CRIPPLEGATE by CHARLES WILLIAM BRODRIBB IMPROMPTU ON MRS. RIDDEL'S BIRTHDAY by ROBERT BURNS GLIMPSES OF ITALY: 1. IN AN ITALIAN HILL TOWN by RICHARD EUGENE BURTON |