WHAT memories haunt the venerable pile! It is the mighty treasury of the past, Where England garners up her glorious dead. The ancient chivalry are sleeping there -- Men who sought out the Turk in Palestine, And laid the crescent low before the cross. The sea has sent her victories: those aisles Wave with the banners of a thousand fights. There, too, are the mind's triumphs -- in those tomb? Sleep poets and philosophers, whose light Is on the heaven of our intellect. The very names inscribed on those old walls Make the place sacred. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LALLA ROOKH: PARADISE AND THE PERI by THOMAS MOORE THE WIND ON THE HILLS by DORA SIGERSON SHORTER BUCOLIC COMEDY: AUBADE by EDITH SITWELL BEGGAR TO BEGGAR CRIED by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS TRANSFIGURATION by LOUISA MAY ALCOTT HYMN TO THE NORTH STAR by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT |