On the Field of Waterloo
So then, the name which travels side by side With English life from childhood—Waterloo— Means this. The sun is setting. “Their strife grew Till the sunset, and ended,” says our guide. It lacked the “chord” by stage-use sanctified, Yet I believe one should have thrilled. For me, I grinned not, and 'twas something;—certainly These held their point, and did not turn but died: So much is very well. “Under each span Of these ploughed fields” ('tis the guide still) “there rot Three nations' slain, a thousand-thousandfold.” Am I to weep? Good sirs, the earth is old: Of the whole earth there is no single spot But hath among its dust the dust of man.
English Poetry - http://www.eng-poetry.ru/english/index.php. E-mail email@example.com