THIS singing blood that pulses in each vein, Warm with the life it treasures to the last, Holds in its fleeting motion the proud strain Of unnamed heroes lost in the dark past; A thousand cohorts girded up with steel— Armies of beauty, clear as pointed flame— These ground their sharpest sorrows under heel, And stood them firm, in honour of a name. So for the name of these, the valiant heart Beats on in darkness or in shrinking fire; Strong with the past, it owns itself a part Of a lost race that could not fail nor tire. So in the strength of these, and their unrest, I start anew upon their ancient quest. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE UNCERTAINTY PRINCIPLE by JAMES GALVIN THE GOLDEN WEDDING OF STERLING AND SARAH LANIER by SIDNEY LANIER ON CARPACCIO'S PICTURE: THE DREAM OF ST. URSALA; SONNET by AMY LOWELL SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: ELIZABETH CHILDERS by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |