Gone while your tastes were keen to you, Gone where the grey winds call to you, By that high fencer, even Death, Struck of the blade that no man parrieth; Such is your fence, one saith, One that hath known you. Drew you your sword most gallantly Made you your pass most valiantly 'Gainst that grey fencer, even Death. Gone as a gust of breath Faith! no man tarrieth, "@3Se il cor ti manca@1," but it failed thee not! "@3Non ti fidar@1," it is the sword that speaks "@3In me@1." Thou trusted'st in thyself and met the blade 'Thout mask or gauntlet, and art laid As memorable broken blades that be Kept as bold trophies of old pageantry. As old Toledos past their days of war Are kept mnemonic of the strokes they bore, So art thou with us, being good to keep In our heart's sword-rack, though thy sword-arm sleep. ENVOI Struck of the blade that no man parrieth Pierced of the point that toucheth lastly all, 'Gainst that grey fencer, even Death, Behold the shield! He shall not take thee all. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A HYMN TO CHRIST, AT THE AUTHOR'S LAST GOING INTO GERMANY by JOHN DONNE ELEGY: 19. TO HIS MISTRESS GOING TO BED by JOHN DONNE LULLABY OF A LOVER by GEORGE GASCOIGNE A SONG FROM THE COPTIC by JOHANN WOLFGANG VON GOETHE THE STORMING OF STONY POINT [JULY 16, 1779] by ARTHUR GUITERMAN THE BLESSED VIRGIN, COMPARED TO THE AIR WE BREATHE by GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS |