Classic Poem

List to the sad wind, drearily moaning;
Moaning the fate of the choicest and best;
Seest those red leaves descending in torrents?
'Tis blood drops of warriors sinking to rest.
Many a volley they've turned in their glory,
Now, lack-a-day! They perish, all gory.

Ever they conquered and victory boasted,
O'er storm and o'er drought and vollies of rain;
Showing more strength when battle was over,
And bearing off laurels again and again.
Flushed with success, did they go forth rejoicing.
Now their ill-fate, the sad wind is voicing.

Fiercely the frost-king urged on his subjects,
Spreading destruction o'er hillside and fen!
Yet bravely they fought, not one e'er despairing,
Till gushing with life-blood, they fell down like men.
Now the pathos of death the last scene is lending,
Who'd have believe such a fate was impending.