WHEN War's red tempest shall depart, That long hath sundered me From those sweet precincts of thy heart And all that heaven of thee; If I return from where they rest Whom battle's scythe hath mown, Then in the fragrance of thy breast I'll live for love alone. But if, where warstorms wildest roll, My life for @3her@1 I yield -- That other empress of my soul, Who called me to the field -- Though 'twixt you twain, with dying breath, My homage I'll divide, My heart will turn to @3thee@1 in death, To claim and clasp its bride. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE DESOLATE FIELD by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS FLOWERS WITHOUT FRUIT by JOHN HENRY NEWMAN CABOOSE THOUGHTS by CARL SANDBURG BENEDICITE by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER A WINTER PIECE by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH ONCE & EVER by JOSEPH BEAUMONT |