NOW, think you, Life, I am defeated quite? More than a single battle shall be mine Before I yield the sword and give the sign And turn, a crownless outcast, to the night. Wounded, and yet unconquered in the fight, I wait in silence till the day may shine Once more upon my strength, and all the line Of your defences break before my might. Mine be that warrior's blood who, stricken sore, Lies in his quiet chamber till he hears Afar the clash and clang of arms, and knows The cause he lived for calls for him once more; And straightway rises, whole and void of fears, And armed, turns him singing to his foes. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONNETS FROM THE PORTUGUESE: 27 by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING WATER FOWL by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH HAPPY CHRISTMASTIDE by GERTRUDE ELOISE BEALER A SIMPLE STORY, FR. MY SOUVENIRS by JACQUES BOE CAELIA: SONNETS: 13 by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) TO MISS FERRIER; ENCLOSING THE ELEGY ON SIR J. H. BLAIR by ROBERT BURNS |