She was a city of patience; of proud name,
Dimmed by neglecting Time; of beauty and loss;
Of acquiescence in the creeping moss.
But on a sudden fierce destruction came
Tigerishly pouncing: thunderbolt and flame
Showered on her streets, to shatter them and toss
Her ancient towers to ashes. Riven across,
She rose, dead, into never-dying fame.
White against heavens of storm, a ghost, she is known
To the world's ends. The myriads of the brave
Sleep round her. Desolately glorified,
She, moon-like, draws her own far-moving tide
Of sorrow and memory; toward her, each alone,
Glide the dark dreams that seek an English grave.
Sonnet: Ypres
Robert Laurence Binyon
(2)
Poem topics: alone, beauty, brave, city, dark, loss, memory, moon, never, rose, sleep, sorrow, time, world, white, storm, ancient, flame, ghost, patience, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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