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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=523127" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>An Evening Dream</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I'm leaning where you loved to lean in eventides of old,<br>The sun has sunk an hour ago behind the treeless wold,<br>In this old oriel that we loved how oft I sit forlorn,<br>Gazing, gazing, up the vale of green and waving corn.<br>The summer corn is in the ear, thou knowest what I see<br>Up the long wide valley, and from seldom tree to tree,<br>The serried corn, the serried corn, the green and serried corn,<br>From the golden morn till night, from the moony night till morn.<br>I love it, morning, noon, and night, in sunshine and in rain,<br>For being here it seems to say, 'The lost come back again.'<br>And being here as green and fair as those old fields we knew,<br>It says, 'The lost when they come back, come back unchanged and true.'<br>But more than at the shout of morn, or in the sleep of noon,<br>Smiling with a smiling star, or wan beneath a wasted moon,<br>I love it, soldier brother! at this weird dim hour, for then<br>The serried ears are swords and spears, and the fields are fields of men.<br>Rank on rank in faultless phalanx stern and still I can discern,<br>Phalanx after faultless phalanx in dumb armies still and stern;<br>Army on army, host on host, till the bannered nations stand,<br>As the dead may stand for judgment silent on the o'erpeopled land.<br>Not a bayonet stirs: down sinks the awful twilight, dern and dun,<br>On an age that waits its leader, on a world that waits the sun.<br>Then your dog-I know his voice-cries from out the courtyard nigh,<br>And my love too well interprets all that long and mournful cry!<br>In my passion that thou art not, lo! I see thee as thou art,<br>And the pitying fancy brings thee to assuage the anguished heart.<br>'Oh my brother!' and my bosom's throb of welcome at the word,<br>Claps a hundred thousand hands, and all my legions hail thee lord.<br>And the vast unmotioned myriads, front to front, as at a breath,<br>Live and move to martial music, down the devious dance of death.<br>Ah, thou smilest, scornful brother, at a maiden's dream of war!<br>And thou shakest back thy locks as if-a glow-worm for thy star-<br>I dubbed thee with a blade of grass, by earthlight, in a fairy ring,<br>Knight o' the garter o' Queen Mab, or lord in waiting to her king.<br>Brother, in thy plumèd pride of tented field and turretted tower,<br>Smiling brother, scornful brother, darest thou watch with me one hour?<br>Even now some fate is near, for I shake and know not why,<br>And a wider sight is orbing, orbing, on my moistened eye,<br>And I feel a thousand flutterings round my soul's still vacant field,<br>Like the ravens and the vultures o'er a carnage yet unkilled.<br>Hist! I see the stir of glamour far upon the twilight wold,<br>Hist! I see the vision rising! List! and as I speak behold!<br>These dull mists are mists of morning, and behind yon eastern hill,<br>The hot sun abides my bidding: he shall melt them when I will.<br>All the night that now is past, the foe hath laboured for the day,<br>Creeping thro' the stealthy dark, like a tiger to his prey.<br>Throw this window wider! Strain thine eyes along the dusky vale!<br>Art thou cold with horror? Has thy bearded cheek grown pale?<br>'Tis the total Russian host, flooding up the solemn plain,<br>Secret as a silent sea, mighty as a moving main!<br>Oh, my country! is there none to rouse thee to the rolling sight?<br>Oh thou gallant sentinel who has watched so oft so well, must thou sleep this only night?<br>So hath the shepherd lain on a rock above a plain,<br>Nor beheld the flood that swelled from some embowelled mount of woe,<br>Waveless, foamless, sure and slow,<br>Silent o'er the vale below,<br>Till nigher still and nigher comes the seeth of fields on fire,<br>And the thrash of falling trees, and the steam of rivers dry,<br>And before the burning flood the wild things of the wood<br>Skulk and scream, and fight, and fall, and flee, and fly.<br>A gun! and then a gun! I' the far and early sun<br>Dost thou see by yonder tree a fleeting redness rise,<br>As if, one after one, ten poppies red had blown,<br>And shed in a blinking of the eyes?<br>They have started from their rest with a bayonet at each breast,<br>Those watchers of the west who shall never watch again!<br>'Tis nought to die, but oh, God's pity on the woe<br>Of dying hearts that know they die in vain!<br>Beyond yon backward height that meets their dying sight,<br>A thousand tents are white, and a slumbering army lies.<br>'Brown Bess,' the sergeant cries, as he loads her while he dies,<br>'Let this devil's deluge reach them, and the good old cause is lost.'<br>He dies upon the word, but his signal gun is heard,<br>Yon ambush green is stirred, yon labouring leaves are tost,<br>And a sudden sabre waves, and like dead from opened graves,<br>A hundred men stand up to meet a host.<br>Dumb as death, with bated breath,<br>Calm upstand that fearless band,<br>And the dear old native land, like a dream of sudden sleep,<br>Passes by each manly eye that is fixed so stern and dry<br>On the tide of battle rolling up the steep.<br>They hold their silent ground, I can hear each fatal sound<br>Upon that summer mound which the morning sunshine warms,<br>The word so brief and shrill that rules them like a will,<br>The sough of moving limbs, and the clank and ring of arms.<br>'Fire!' and round that green knoll the sudden warclouds roll,<br>And from the tyrant's ranks so fierce an answ'ring blast<br>Of whirling death came back that the green trees turned to black,<br>And dropped their leaves in winter as it passed.<br>A moment on each side the surging smoke is wide,<br>Between the fields are green, and around the hills are loud,<br>But a shout breaks out, and lo! they have rushed upon the foe,<br>As the living lightning leaps from cloud to cloud.<br>Fire and flash, smoke and crash,<br>The fogs of battle close o'er friends and foes, and they are gone!<br>Alas, thou bright-eyed boy! alas, thou mother's joy!<br>With thy long hair so fair, thou didst so bravely lead them on!<br>I faint with pain and fear. Ah, heaven! what do I hear?<br>A trumpet-note so near?<br>What are these that race like hunters at a chase?<br>Who are these that run a thousand men as one?<br>What are these that crash the trees far in the waving rear?<br>Fight on, thou young hero! there's help upon the way!<br>The light horse are coming, the great guns are coming,<br>The Highlanders are coming;-good God give us the day!<br>Hurrah for the brave and the leal! Hurrah for the strong and the true!<br>Hurrah for the helmets of steel! Hurrah for the bonnets o' blue!<br>A run and a cheer, the Highlanders are here! a gallop and a cheer, the light horse are here!<br>A rattle and a cheer, the great guns are here!<br>With a cheer they wheel round and face the foe!<br>As the troopers wheel about, their long swords are out,<br>With a trumpet and a shout, in they go!<br>Like a yawning ocean green, the huge host gulphs them in,<br>But high o'er the rolling of the flood,<br>Their sabres you may see like lights upon the sea<br>When the red sun is going down in blood.<br>Again, again, again! And the lights are on the wane!<br>Ah, Christ! I see them sink, light by light,<br>As the gleams go one by one when the great sun is down,<br>And the sea rocks in foam beneath the night.<br>Aye, the great sun is low, and the waves of battle flow<br>O'er his honoured head; but, oh, we mourn not he is down,<br>For to-morrow he shall rise to fill his country's eyes,<br>As he sails up the skies of renown!<br>Ye may yell, but ye shall groan!<br>Ye shall buy them bone for bone!<br>Now, tyrant, hold thine own! blare the trumpet, peal the drum!<br>From yonder hill-side dark, the storm is on you! Hark!<br>Swift as lightning, loud as thunder, down they come!<br>As on some Scottish shore, with mountains frowning o'er,<br>The sudden tempests roar from the glen,<br>And roll the tumbling sea in billows to the lee,<br>Came the charge of the gallant Highlandmen!<br>And as one beholds the sea tho' the wind he cannot see,<br>But by the waves that flee knows its might,<br>So I tracked the Highland blast by the sudden tide that past<br>O'er the wild and rolling vast of the fight.<br>Yes, glory be to God! they have stemmed the foremost flood!<br>I lay me on the sod and breathe again!<br>In the precious moments won, the bugle call has gone<br>To the tents where it never rang in vain,<br>And lo, the landscape wide is red from side to side,<br>And all the might of England loads the plain!<br>Like a hot and bloody dawn, across the horizon drawn,<br>While the host of darkness holds the misty vale,<br>As glowing and as grand our bannered legions stand,<br>And England's flag unfolds upon the gale!<br>At that great sign unfurled, as morn moves o'er the world<br>When God lifts His standard of light,<br>With a tumult and a voice, and a rushing mighty noise,<br>Our long line moves forward to the fight.<br>Clarion and clarion defying,<br>Sounding, resounding, replying,<br>Trumpets braying, pipers playing, chargers neighing,<br>Near and far<br>The to and fro storm of the never-done hurrahing,<br>Thro' the bright weather banner and feather rising and falling, bugle and fife<br>Calling, recalling-for death or for life-<br>Our host moved on to the war,<br>While England, England, England, England, England!<br>Was blown from line to line near and far,<br>And like the morning sea, our bayonets you might see,<br>Come beaming, gleaming, streaming,<br>Streaming, gleaming, beaming,<br>Beaming, gleaming, streaming, to the war.<br>Clarion and clarion defying,<br>Sounding, resounding, replying,<br>Trumpets braying, pipers playing, chargers neighing,<br>Near and far<br>The to and fro storm of the never-done hurrahing,<br>Thro' the bright weather, banner and feather rising and falling, bugle and fife<br>Calling, recalling-for death or for life-<br>Our long line moved forward to the war.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Sydney+Thompson+Dobell">Sydney Thompson Dobell</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=523127" data-title="An Evening Dream de Sydney Thompson Dobell" data-description="I'm leaning where you loved to lean in eventides of old,
The sun has sunk an hour ago behind the treeless wold,
In this old oriel that we loved how oft I sit forlorn,
Gazing, gazing, up the vale of green and waving corn.
The summer corn is in the ..."></div>
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