Sword in hand he was slain; The snow his winding sheet; The grinding ice at his feet -- The river moaning in pain. Pity and peace at last; Flowers for him today Above on the battlements gray -- And the river rolling past. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO MARK ANTHONY IN HEAVEN by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS THE OWL CRITIC by JAMES THOMAS FIELDS THE HIGH TIDE AT [OR, ON THE COAST OF] LINCOLNSHIRE by JEAN INGELOW THE LITTLE HILL by EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY THE MIST AND ALL by DIXIE WILLSON ANOTHER REAPER by WILLIAM H. ARMSTRONG III A SONNET. PLATONIC LOVE by PHILIP AYRES |