The shapes of waking moments wearied him, Heroic beauty stirred him as he slept; And so he lived his youth, and so he crept Back to the old shadows beautiful and dim. But at the call to arms his eyes were grim; Dreams must be saved! So he, the dream adept, Seeing young Death afar where Horrow swept, Leapt with a lover's trembling in each limb. He sought her out he knew to be his maiden And cried to her he flamed for as his bride. The thundering guns were viols for his suit, And iron shards his couch. The day was laden With scent of deadly blossoms, and he died - And now, wrapt with his maiden, he is mute. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE CAPTIVE LION by WILLIAM HENRY DAVIES A SMILE AS SMALL AS MINE by EMILY DICKINSON THREE KINGS OF ORIENT by JOHN HENRY HOPKINS JR. TO THE DANDELION by JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL THE RUBAIYAT, 1879 EDITION: 101 by OMAR KHAYYAM |