Sonnet: - XVI.
My footsteps press where, centuries ago, The Red Men fought and conquered; lost and won. Whole tribes and races, gone like last year's snow, Have found the Eternal Hunting-Grounds, and run The fiery gauntlet of their active days, Till few are left to tell the mournful tale: And these inspire us with such wild amaze They seem like spectres passing down a vale Steeped in uncertain moonlight, on their way Towards some bourn where darkness blinds the day, And night is wrapped in mystery profound. We cannot lift the mantle of the past: We seem to wander over hallowed ground: We scan the trail of Thought, but all is overcast.
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"My footsteps press where, centuries ago,..."
This evocative piece by Charles Sangster, titled "Sonnet: - XVI.", represents a masterful exploration of classic. The lines capture a profound emotional resonance... ### Why We Love This Line At Linespedia, we believe that poetry is the ultimate sanctuary for the soul...