The Dreamer
O thou who giving helm and sword, Gav'st, too, the rusting rain, And starry dark's all tender dews To blunt and stain: Out of the battle I am sped, Unharmed, yet stricken sore; A living shape amid whispering shades On Lethe's shore. No trophy in my hands I bring, To this sad, sighing stream, The neighings and the trumps and cries Were but a dream. Traitor to life, of life betrayed: O, of thy mercy deep, A dream my all, the all I ask Is sleep.
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"O thou who giving helm and sword,..."
"The Dreamer" is a quintessential example of Walter De La Mare's signature style... ### Why We Love This Line At Linespedia, we believe that poetry is the ultimate sanctuary for the soul...