Tall stately plants with spikes and forks of gold Crowd every slope: my heart repeats its cry, A cry for strength, for strength and victory: The will to strive, the courage overbold That would have moved me once to turn indeed And level with the dust each lordly weed. But now I weep upon my wayside walks And sigh for those fair days, when glorying I stood a boy amid the mullein-stalks And wished myself like him the Lion King: There, where his shield shed arrows and his helm Rang like a bell beaten with axe and brand, He pushed the battle backward, realm on realm Fallen in the swordswing of his stormy hand. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE ROLLING ENGLISH ROAD by GILBERT KEITH CHESTERTON GREEK SONG: 1. THE STORM OF DELPHI by FELICIA DOROTHEA HEMANS TO HESTER [SAVORY] by CHARLES LAMB THE DYING SWAN by THOMAS STURGE MOORE ST. SIMEON STYLITES by ALFRED TENNYSON ON THE PRAIRIE by HERBERT BATES THE SCHOLAR OF HIS OWN PUPIL; THIRD IDYLLIUM by BION ROMAN ANEMONES by MATHILDE BLIND THE LOVE SONNETS OF PROTEUS: 26. ASKING FOR HER HEART. CHRISTMAS by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT |