Storm-Drift by Herbert Edwin Clarke

Day and the storm, their long fight over, die
On the red field together, shattered and spent;
The thunder’s roar sinks to a low lament
The wind’s shout to the shadow of a sigh,
And over heaven the mingled armies fly
Headlong, with trailing blood-stained banners rent,
In one wild whirl of rout and ruin sent
To nights abysm beneath the western sky.

Rags of encrimsoned cloud by tempest torn,
Dyed with day’s blood, fierce shapes that change and shift,
Passions and sorrows and sins in mingled flight;
But sometimes some faint ray of a moon unborn,
Or thro’ the horror of the hurrying drift
A star of Hope on the steadfast brows of night.

From: Clarke, H. E., Storm-Drift: Poems and Sonnets, 1882, David Bogue: London, p. [unnumbered].
(https://archive.org/details/stormdriftpoems00clargoog/)

Date: 1882

By: Herbert Edwin Clarke (1852-1912)

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

%d bloggers like this: