Subject:

Comments:
: : The asarian came down, : : Like a wolf on the fold, : : And his cohorts were gleaming, : : In purple and gold, : : And the sheen on their spears, : : Were like stars on the sea, : : As the blue waves roll nightly, : : Through deep Galilee. : : Like the leaves of the forest when summer is green, : That host with their banners at sunset were seen: : Like the leaves of the forest when autumn hath n, : That host on the morrow lay withered and strown. : For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast, : And breathed in the face of the foe as he ped: : And the eyes of the sleepers waxed deadly and chill, : And their hearts but once heaved, and for ever grew still! : And there lay the steed with his nostrils all wide, : But through it there rolled not the breath of his pride: : And the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf, : And cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf. : And there lay the rider distorted and pale, : With the dew on his brow and the rust on his mail; : And the tents were all silent, the banners alone, : The lances unlifted, the trumpet unn. : And the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail, : And the idols are broke in the temple of Baal; : And the might of the Gentile, unsmote by the sword, : Hath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord! : : Anyone who can finnish the rest of this poem will thurouly impress me. Perhaps I am not the only renisannce lover out there?

Optional Link URL:
Link Title:
Optional Image URL: