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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=413277" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>A Battle</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">SLOWLY the Moon her banderoles of light<br>Unfurls upon the sky; her fingers drip<br>Pale, silvery tides; her armoured warriors<br>Leave Day's bright tents of azure and of gold,<br>Wherein they hid them, and in silence flock<br>Upon the solemn battlefield of Night<br>To try great issues with the blind old king,<br>The Titan Darkness, who great Pharoah fought<br>With groping hands, and conquered for a span.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The starry hosts with silver lances prick<br>The scarlet fringes of the tents of Day,<br>And turn their crystal shields upon their breasts,<br>And point their radiant lances, and so wait<br>The stirring of the giant in his caves.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The solitary hills send long, sad sighs<br>As the blind Titan grasps their locks of pine<br>And trembling larch to drag him toward the sky,<br>That his wild-seeking hands may clutch the Moon<br>From her war-chariot, scythed and wheeled with light,<br>Crush bright-mailed stars, and so, a sightless king,<br>Reign in black desolation! Low-set vales<br>Weep under the black hollow of his foot,<br>While sobs the sea beneath his lashing hair<br>Of rolling mists, which, strong as iron cords,<br>Twine round tall masts and drag them to the reefs.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Swifter rolls up Astarte's light-scythed car;<br>Dense rise the jewelled lances, groves of light;<br>Red flouts Mars' banner in the voiceless war<br>(The mightiest combat is the tongueless one);<br>The silvery dartings of the lances prick<br>His fingers from the mountains, catch his locks<br>And toss them in black fragments to the winds,<br>Pierce the vast hollow of his misty foot,<br>Level their diamond tips against his breast,<br>And force him down to lair within his pit<br>And thro' its chinks thrust down his groping hands<br>To quicken Hell with horror-for the strength<br>That is not of the Heavens is of Hell.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Isabella+Valancy+Crawford">Isabella Valancy Crawford</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=413277" data-title="A Battle de Isabella Valancy Crawford" data-description="SLOWLY the Moon her banderoles of light
Unfurls upon the sky; her fingers drip
Pale, silvery tides; her armoured warriors
Leave Day's bright tents of azure and of gold,
Wherein they hid them, and in silence flock
Upon the solemn battlefield of Nig..."></div>
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