Two hundred strong they pour'd into the field, A gentle host, for one brief night's repose Before the market, for their doom was seal'd; They left their pasture ere the morn arose. I listen'd, while that multitudinous sound Peal'd from the highway through the twilight air, A cry for light, while all was dark around, A throng of voices like a people's prayer; Slow broke the dawn; the flock went plodding on Into the distance, some at once to bleed, Some to be scatter'd wide on moor and mead. But while I sigh'd to think that all were gone, A little lark, their field-mate of the night, Saw them from heaven and sang them out of sight. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE CRAFTSMAN by MARCUS B. CHRISTIAN THE FAIREST THING IN MORTAL EYES by CHARLES D'ORLEANS VISION by ROBERT SEYMOUR BRIDGES EPIGRAM ON A ROPE-MAKER HANGED by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) THE CLAIM OF KINDRED by RICHARD EUGENE BURTON THE YELLOW STUFF by CHARLES BADGER CLARK JR. A STREET MELODY by BELLE COOPER OLNEY HYMNS: 23. PLEADING FOR AND WITH YOUTH by WILLIAM COWPER |