Poems you ought to know . -63 he lived at St. Petersburg as Secretary of the Legationthere. He died in Berlin, where he was United States Minister, In1878. He has written of his travels, has translated Goethes Faust,and was besides a poet and novelist. Give us a song! the soldiers cried. The outer trenches guarding,When the heated guns of the camps allied Grew weary of bombarding. The dark Redan, in silent scoff,Lay grim and threatening under;And the tawny mound of the MalakoffNo longer belchd its thunder. There was a pause. A guardsman said: We storm the forts tomorrow;Sing while we may, anot
Poems you ought to know . -63 he lived at St. Petersburg as Secretary of the Legationthere. He died in Berlin, where he was United States Minister, In1878. He has written of his travels, has translated Goethes Faust,and was besides a poet and novelist. Give us a song! the soldiers cried. The outer trenches guarding,When the heated guns of the camps allied Grew weary of bombarding. The dark Redan, in silent scoff,Lay grim and threatening under;And the tawny mound of the MalakoffNo longer belchd its thunder. There was a pause. A guardsman said: We storm the forts tomorrow;Sing while we may, another day Will bring enough of sorrow. They lay along the batterys side, Below the smoking cannon;Brave hearts from Severn and from Clyde And from the banks of Shannon. They sang of love and not of fame; Forgot was Britains glory;Each heart recalled a different name, But all sang Annie Laurie. 146 Voice after voice caught up the song, Until its tender passionRose Hke an anthem, rich and strong—Their battle-eve Dear girl, her name he dared not speak,But as the song grew louder. Something upon the soldiers cheekWashed off the stains of powdier. Beyond the darkening ocean burned The bloody sunsets embers,While the Crimean valleys learnd How English love remembers. And once again a fire of hellRaind on the Russian quarters. With scream of shot and burst of bellowing of the mortars! An Irish Noras eyes are dimFor a singer dumb and gory; An English Mary mourns for himWho sang of Annie Laurie. Sleep, soldiers! still in honord resiYour truth and valor wearing; The bravest are the tenderest—The loving are the daring.
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1900, bookdecade1900, booksubjectenglishpoetry, bookye
