THE piping of our slender, peaceful reeds Whispers uncared for while the trumpets bray; Song is thin air; our hearts' exulting play Beats time but to the tread of marching deeds, Following the mighty van that Freedom leads, Her glorious standard flaming to the day! The crimsoned pavement where a hero bleeds Breathes nobler lessons than the poet's lay. Strong arms, broad breasts, brave hearts, are better worth Than strains that sing the ravished echoes dumb. Hark! 'it is the loud reverberating drum Rolls o'er the prairied West, the rockbound North: The myriad-handed Future stretches forth Its shadowy palms. Behold, we come, -- we come! Turn o'er these idle leaves. Such toys as these Were not unsought for, as, in languid dreams, We lay beside our lotus-feeding streams, And nursed our fancies in forgetful ease. It matters little if they pall or please, Dropping untimely, while the sudden gleams Glare from the mustering clouds whose blackness seems Too swollen to hold its lightning from the trees. Yet, in some lull of passion, when at last These calm revolving moons that come and go -- Turning our months to years, they creep so slow -- Have brought us rest, the not unwelcome past May flutter to thee through these leaflets, cast On the wild winds that all around us blow. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WRITTEN IN NORTHAMPTON COUNTY ASYLUM by JOHN CLARE A WOMAN'S ANSWER by ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTER UP-HILL by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI PSALM OF THOSE WHO GO FORTH BEFORE DAYLIGHT by CARL SANDBURG ADVENTURE ON THE WINGS OF MORNING by RACHEL ALBRIGHT LANDING AT DAWN by HARRY RANDOLPH BLYTHE DARK LOVELY FRUIT by HELEN BRYANT MEDITATIONS FOR EVERY DAY IN PASSION WEEK: MONDAY by JOHN BYROM |