HE cometh from the purple hills, Where the fight has been to-day; He bears the standard on his hand, -- Shout round the victor's way. The sunset of a battle won Is round his steps from Marathon. Gather the myrtles near, And fling them on his path; Take from her braided hair The flowers the maiden hath, A welcome to the welcome one Who hastens now from Marathon. They crowd around his steps, Rejoicing young and old; The laurel branch he bears, His glorious tale hath told, The Persian's hour of pride is done, Victory is on Marathon. She cometh with brightened cheek; She who all day hath wept The wife and mother's tears Where her youngest infant slept; The heart is in her eyes alone, What careth she for Marathon! But down on his threshold, down! Sinks the warrior's failing breath, The tale of that mighty field Is left to be told by Death. 'T is a common tale, -- the victor's sun Sets in tears and blood o'er Marathon. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AND THE GREATEST OF THESE IS WAR by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON DANTE by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT BOADICEA; AN ODE by WILLIAM COWPER HER LETTER by FRANCIS BRET HARTE THE LOVE OF CHRIST WHICH PASSETH KNOWLEDGE by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI THE WORLD by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI |