THE TRUMPETER

by: Thomas Wentworth Higginson (1823-1911)

      BLEW, I blew, the trumpet loudly sounding;
      I blew, I blew, the heart within me bounding;
      The world was fresh and fair, yet dark with wrong,
      And men stood forth to conquer at the song--
      I blew! I blew! I blew!
       
      The field is won, the minstrels loud are crying,
      And all the world is peace, and I am dying.
      Yet this forgotten life was not in vain;
      Enough if I alone recall the strain,
      I blew! I blew! I blew!

"The Trumpeter" is reprinted from The Little Book of American Poets: 1787-1900. Ed. Jessie B. Rittenhouse. Cambridge: Riverside Press, 1915.

MORE POEMS BY THOMAS WENTWORTH HIGGINSON

RELATED LINKS

BROWSE THE POETRY ARCHIVE:

[ A | B | C | D | E | F | G | H | I | J | K | L | M | N | O | P | Q | R | S | T | U | V | W | X | Y | Z ]

Home · Poetry Store · Links · Email · © 2002 Poetry-Archive.com