The Outpost - Poem by Jessie Pope
The dying sunset's slanting rays
Incarnadine the soldier's deed,
His sturdy countenance betrays
The bull-dog breed.
Not his to shun the stubborn fight,
The struggle against cruel odds.
Alone, unaided 'tis a sight
For men and gods.
And now his back is bowed and bent,
Now stooping, now erect he stands,
And now the red life blood is sprent
From both his hands.
He takes his enemies on trust
As one who sees and yet is blind,
For every mutilating thrust
Comes from behind.
'Tis done ! The dying sun has gone,
But triumph fills the soldier's breast.
He's sewn his back brace button on
While fully dressed.
Comments about The Outpost by Jessie Pope
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep
Mary Elizabeth Frye