STILL on the hilt, O Patience, keep thy hand! Though in the sheath the uneasy sword may leap That waits, and, for its waiting, cannot sleep. For it doth envy Arthur's knightly brand And each fame-wreathed weapon, hero-manned, That the world's freemen in remembrance keep. Oh, how can steel be deaf when nations weep With the loud sobbing of the desolate strand! Are there who think, "The hilt hears, not the blade, Snug in its silence"? Ah, from storms upcaught Fall not too soon the lightnings of the Lord. Justice, thou God in Man, when thou hast weighed All in thy balance, show us what we ought. Then, Patience, not till then, loose the appointed sword. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TIME THE HANGMAN by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS TO MY BOOKSELLER by BEN JONSON A BOY'S MOTHER by JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY SONNET: 110 by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE THE SHEPHERD-BOY AND THE WOLF by AESOP WINTER SUNSET by EVA K. ANGLESBURG THE OLD CAMP; WRITTEN IN A ROMAN FORTIFICATION IN BAVARIA by WILLIAM EDMONSTOUNE AYTOUN |