If this be my last hour with thee, For none may Fate control, Take as thine own a heart that's free, And the worship of my soul. For where the trumpet-blasts ring out, And men rush in to die, Amid the thickest of the rout, My sword must flash on high. I'll serve thee as my king and lord, Thine till my latest breath, A soldier's word, a soldier's sword, Are thine, my dear, till death. Fate has no power to decide Whether I live or fall, For with thee Death I shall deride, Without thee, I lose all. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...NOCTURNE IN A MINOR KEY by CONRAD AIKEN THE WORLD AS WILL AND REPRESENTATION' by HAYDEN CARRUTH SEPARATION by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON DE LITTLE PICKANINNY'S GONE TO SLEEP by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON THE HARD TIMES IN ELFLAND; A STORY OF CHRISTMAS EVE by SIDNEY LANIER THE TOURNAMENT by SIDNEY LANIER CANTICLE OF THE RACE by EDGAR LEE MASTERS SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: MRS. CHARLES BLISS by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |