Cavalry Charge at Balaclava Traveller on foreign ground, whoe'er thou art, Tell the great tidings! They went down that day A Legion, and came back from victory Two hundred men and Glory! On the mart Is this 'to losc?' Yet, Stranger, thou shalt say These were our common Britons. 'Tis our way In England. Aye, ye heavens! I saw them part The Death-Sea as an English dog leaps o'er The rocks into the ocean. He goes in Thick as a lion, and he comes out thin As a starved wolf; but lo! he brings to shore A life above his own, which when his heart Bursts with that final effort, from the stones Springs up and builds a temple o'er his bones. |
English Poetry - http://eng-poetry.ru/english/index.php. E-mail eng-poetry.ru@yandex.ru |