Shout, for a mighty Victory is won!
On British ground the Invaders are laid low;
The breath of Heaven has drifted them like snow,
And left them lying in the silent sun,
Never to rise again!—the work is done.
Come forth, ye old men, now in peaceful show
And greet your sons! drums beat and trumpets blow!
Make merry, wives! ye little children, stun
Your grandame's ears with pleasure of your noise!
Clap, infants, clap your hands! Divine must be
That triumph, when the very worst, the pain,
And even the prospect of our brethren slain,
Hath something in it which the heart enjoys:—
In glory will they sleep and endless sanctity.
This Blog Contains:
English Poems, Urdu Poems, Love Poems, Famous Poems, Friendship Poems, Sad Poems, Funny Poems, Birthday Poems, Wedding Poems, Death Poems, Children Poems, Short Poems, Family Poems, Romantic Poems, Nature Poems, Spiritual Poems, Religious Poems, Old Poems, New Poems, and All The Poems.
