AND this is Marathon! -- this sweep of plain Austere and treeless! yet't is glorious ground, Albeit naught save one unfeatured mound Stands monument to the undaunted slain; But at the sight the old heroic strain Moves in the breast as at some martial sound; Again the victor Greeks are glory-crowned, The Persian hordes back-driven to the main! E'en gnawing Time, with his insatiate greed, Wears not the splendor of some names away, But, star-like, they endure, undimmed and fair; And so with Marathon, though the spot to-day Is but a wilderness of grass and reed Lying at peace beneath the Attic air. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE MAN CHRIST by THERESE (KARPER) LINDSEY THE TABLES TURNED by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 76. YA WALI by EDWIN ARNOLD BLIND FOLK by CHARLES BAUDELAIRE GOOD FRYDAY by JOSEPH BEAUMONT TIME'S SHADOW by MATHILDE BLIND THE COMING by HARRY RANDOLPH BLYTHE ON THE BIRTHDAY OF WASHINGTON by JOHN GARDINER CALKINS BRAINARD |