Upon the eve of Bosworth, it is said, Until Richard waited through the drear night's gloom Until wan morn the death-field should illume, Those he had murdered came with soundless tread To daunt his soul with prophecies of dread, And bid him know that, gliding from the tomb, They would fight 'gainst him in his hour of doom Until with theirs should lie his discrowned head. To every man, in life's decisive hour, Ghosts of the past do through the conflict glide, And for him or against him wield their power; Lost hopes and wasted days and aims that died Rise spectral where the fateful war-clouds lower, And their pale hands the battle shall decide. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THERE IS NO NATURAL RELIGION (A) by WILLIAM BLAKE RETALIATION by OLIVER GOLDSMITH TO SHELLEY by JOHN BANISTER TABB ST. AGNES' MORNING by MAXWELL ANDERSON PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 15. AL-GHAFFAR by EDWIN ARNOLD GOODS TRAIN AT NIGHT by KENNETH H. ASHLEY UNEASY PEACE by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN EAST SIDE MOVING PICTURE THEATRE - SUNDAY by MAXWELL BODENHEIM |