ON Quarley Down, on Quarley Down The trees grow straight, the trees grow tall, And there the Romans set their camp, And girdled it with moat and wall. On Quarley Down, on Quarley Down A man may see three counties lie, But never an eagle standard flap, Nor a Roman foot pass by. On Quarley Down, on Quarley Down A man may hear the wind and trees, But never a word of the Roman tongue, Nor a snatch of their martial melodies. On Quarley Down, on Quarley Down An ancient bed I lay upon, For I lay sleeping in the moat Dug nigh two thousand years agone. On Quarley Down, on Quarley Down The trees grow straight, the trees grow tall, And God send peace to those dead men Whose ditch is their memorial! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A MID-DAY DREAMER by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON SPECIAL PLEADING by SIDNEY LANIER THE WILD FLOWER'S SONG by WILLIAM BLAKE THE HOUSE OF LIFE: 47. BROKEN MUSIC by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI PROMETHEUS UNBOUND; A LYRICAL DRAMA IN FOUR ACTS by PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY OF A CONTENTED MIND [OR, SPIRIT] by THOMAS VAUX THREE PASTORAL ELEGIES: 3 by WILLIAM BASSE |