ACROSS the quiet pastures of my soul The invading army marched in splendid might My few poor forces fled beyond control, Scattered, defeated, hidden in the night. My fields were green, their hedges white with May, With gold of buttercups made bright and fair, The careless conquerors did not even stay To gather one of all the blossoms there. Only when they had passed, the fields were brown, The grass and blossoms trampled in the mud: The flowering hedges withered and torn down, And no one richer by a single bud. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...INSTRUCTIONS, SUPPOSED TO BE WRITTEN IN PARIS, FOR THE MOB IN ENGLAND by MARY (CUMBERLAND) ALCOCK THE LAUGHING WOMAN by WILLIAM ROSE BENET PSALM 85 by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE WRITTEN FOR A LADY'S COMMON-PLACE BOOK by JOHN GARDINER CALKINS BRAINARD PATER FILIO by ROBERT SEYMOUR BRIDGES EPISTLE TO ROBERT GRAHAM OF FINTRY, REQUESTING A FAVOR by ROBERT BURNS THERE'LL NEVER BE PEACE TILL JAMIE COMES HAME by ROBERT BURNS |