HE sleeps in his last sleep, long time He sleeps in his last sleep: Green breadths of grass approach and climb To roof his earthen heap. Hoar ringlets of the patriarch moulder Mixt in the paste of clay; Time was, they wagged upon his shoulder And dipped in goblets gay -- Oh ringlets white as foam of seas Against the headland flung! The cold has froze what nought could freeze, The sweet counsels of his tongue. The dead man's cheeks, they're full as pale As his foes' faces grew Pale, when their ranked array to assail Alone he rose to view. Damp sods his breast do bury, But that's no burden now: The worm, all undisturbed and merry, Pries in and out his brow. Lived he for this? Drew sword for this? -- That, come the hour of dark, The eagles of the wilderness Should perch on his green ark? Had he no bards -- that name, that strife In the mind of men to keep? Why, song's but song, and life's but life -- He sleeps in his last sleep. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TREES by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS BALLAD by CHARLES STUART CALVERLEY AFTERMATH by SIEGFRIED SASSOON CHRISTMAS CAROL by SARA TEASDALE THE KITTEN AND THE FALLING LEAVES by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH SOLUTION OF THE CHARADE IN THE MUSEUM FOR OCTOBER by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD FIRST CYCLE OF LOVE POEMS: 5 by GEORGE BARKER URANIA; THE WOMAN IN THE MOON: DEDICATION TO LADY PENELOPE DYNHAM by WILLIAM BASSE |