The Field Of Battle (James Henry Leigh Hunt Poems)
The Deed of Blood is o'er! And, hark, the Trumpet's mournful breath Low murmurs round it a Note of Death- The Mighty are ...
The Deed of Blood is o'er! And, hark, the Trumpet's mournful breath Low murmurs round it a Note of Death- The Mighty are ...
Huzza, my boys! our friends the Dutch have risen,Our good old friends, and burst the Tyrant's prison!Aye, and have done ...
It lies before me there, and my own breath Stirs its thin outer threads, as though beside The living head ...
I have been reading Pomfret's "Choice" this spring, A pretty kind of--sort of--kind of thing, Not much a verse, and ...
Paupertas onus visa est grave. Cold blows the wind, and while the tear Bursts trembling from my swollen eyes, The ...
Death is a road our dearest friends have gone; Why with such leaders, fear to say, "Lead on?" Its gate ...
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