Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Portland, Maine
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Portland, Maine
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Rating: 3.0
I am poor and old and blind;
The sun burns me, and the wind
Blows through the city gate
And covers me with dust
From the wheels of the august
Justinian the Great.

It was for him I chased
The Persians o'er wild and waste,
As General of the East;
Night after night I lay
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Ratnakar Mandlik 06 March 2016
A beautifully conceived soliloquy of an old warrior who fought battles for his monarch when he could and living in pathetic conditions in old age more or less like a beggar.
1 1 Reply
Susan Williams 06 March 2016
To quote a certain weird wealthy businessman- this poem is HUGE. He is talking Ancient History to his generation of retired soldiers and he very well could be talking to all the soldiers since. We honor our warriors till they are too old to march onto the battlefield- then we don't see them begging for bread on the streets
22 0 Reply
Methinks I still can hear, Sounding distinct and near, The Vandal monarch's cry, As, captive and disgraced, With majestic step he paced, - All, all is Vanity! Ah! vainest of all things Is the gratitude of kings; The plaudits of the crowd Are but the clatter of feet At midnight in the street, Hollow and restless and loud. It's lovely
1 0 Reply
Edward Kofi Louis 06 March 2016
Realm and reign! Old with the muse of life. Thanks for sharing.
1 2 Reply
M Asim Nehal 06 March 2016
WOnderful poem to read....I liked it, thanks for sharing.
1 0 Reply
* Sunprincess * 29 August 2015
....an excellent write...nicely composed ?
2 0 Reply

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