The morning drum-call on my eager ear Thrills unforgotten yet; the morning dew Lies yet undried along my field of noon. But now I pause at whiles in what I do, And count the bell, and tremble lest I hear (My work untrimmed) the sunset gun too soon. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE BLACK RIDERS: 56 by STEPHEN CRANE AN ODE OF ANACREON by ANACREON A NEW PILGRIMAGE: 38 by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT |