SEE how that small concentrate fiery force Is grappling with the glory of the main, That follows, like some grave heroic corse, Dragged by a suttler from the heap of slain. Thy solemn presence brings us more than pain -- Something which Fancy moulds into remorse, That We, who of thine honour hold the gain, Should from its dignity thy form divorce. Yet will we read in thy high-vaunting Name, How Britain did what France could only @3dare@1, And, while the sunset gilds the darkening air, We will fill up thy shadowy lines with fame, And, tomb or temple, hail thee still the same, Home of great thoughts, memorial Temeraire! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A MORNING HYMN by CHARLES WESLEY THE BROOK: SPRING by LAURA ABELL A BIT OF MULL by FREDERICK HENRY HERBERT ADLER ARMSTRONG'S GOOD NIGHT by THOMAS ARMSTRONG THE CONSOLATION OF PHILOSOPHY: BOOK 3 by ANICIUS MANLIUS SEVERINUS BOETHIUS |