OUR game was his but yesteryear; We wished him back; we could not know The self-same hour we missed him here He led the line that broke the foe. Blood-red behind our guarded posts Sank as of old the dying day; The battle ceased; the mingled hosts Weary and cheery went their way: "To-morrow well may bring," we said, "As fair a fight, as clear a sun." Dear lad, before the word was sped, For evermore thy goal was won. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...NIGHTINGALES by ROBERT SEYMOUR BRIDGES OLNEY HYMNS: 35. LIGHT SHINING OUT OF DARKNESS by WILLIAM COWPER FOUR-LEAF CLOVER by ELLA (RHOADS) HIGGINSON SONNET: 151 by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE TIGER LILIES by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH THE GARLAND OF SLEEP by AUGUSTE ANGELLIER |