Читать книгу Poems of To-Day: an Anthology - Various - Страница 7

    O, a gallant set were they,

    As they charged on us that day,

  A thousand riding like one!

    Their trumpets crying,

    And their white plumes flying,

  And their sabres flashing in the sun.

    O, a sorry lot were we,

    As we stood beside the sea,

  Each man for himself as he stood!

    We were scattered and lonely—

    A little force only

  Of the good men fighting for the good.

    But I never loved more

    On sea or on shore

  The ringing of my own true blade,

    Like lightning it quivered,

    And the hard helms shivered,

  As I sang, "None maketh me afraid!"