Three mounted buglers laced in gold, Sidelong veering, light in seat, High on the crest of battle rolled Ere yet the surge is downward beat, The pennoned trumpets lightly hold -- Mark how they snatch the swift occasion To thrill their rearward invocation -- While the sabres, never coy, Ring responses as they ride; And, like breakers of the tide, All the mad plumes dance for joy! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE VISIONARY by EMILY JANE BRONTE A MOTHER TO HER SICK CHILD by WILLIAM HENRY DAVIES IN THE WILDERNESS by ROBERT RANKE GRAVES IN THE VALLEY OF THE ELWY by GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS TOMORROW by FELIX LOPE DE VEGA CARPIO THE WOODSPURGE by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI |