BLITHE the bright dawn found me, Rest with strength had crown'd me, Sweet the birds sang round me, Sport was all their toil. The horn its clang was keeping, Forth the fox was creeping, Round each dame stood weeping, O'er the prowler's spoil. Hark! the foe is calling, Fast the woods are falling, Scenes and sights appalling Mark the wasted soil. War and confiscation Curse the fallen nation; Gloom and desolation Shade the lost land o'er. Chill the winds are blowing, Death aloft is going, Peace or hope seems growing For our race no more. Hark! the foe is calling, Fast the woods are falling, Scenes and sights appalling Throng the blood-stained shore. Nobles, once high-hearted, From their homes have parted, Scattered, scared, and started By a base-born band. Spots that once were cheering, Girls beloved, endearing, Friends from whom I'm steering, Take this parting tear. Hark! the foe is calling, Fast the woods are falling, Scenes and sights appalling Plague and haunt me here. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE MAYFLOWER [DECEMBER 21, 1620] by ERASTUS WOLCOTT ELLSWORTH THE WINDHOVER: TO CHRIST OUR LORD by GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS COMMEMORATION ODE READ AT HARVARD UNIVERSITY by JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL SPRING, 1916 by ISAAC ROSENBERG ASTROPHEL AND STELLA: 39 by PHILIP SIDNEY IN MEMORIAM A.H.H.: 13 by ALFRED TENNYSON THE PLEASURES OF IMAGINATION: BOOK 3 by MARK AKENSIDE TO DR. AIKIN ON HIS COMPLAINING THAT SHE NEGLECTED HIM by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD |