Classic Poem

Over the city a shadowy cloud
Floated and floated; a gloomy gray shroud,
Floating from cannon-shot, gun-shot, and shell,
Thicker and thicker the dense shadow fell.

Into the palace it stealthily comes,
With the sound of the trumpet, the rolling of drums,
And the glittering guests in the glittering dance
Hear with it the sound of the shivering lance;

But never the cries of the wounded and dying,
Who drop in the trenches, or fall in their flying;
For the Redan, the Redan, is taken at last,
And Sebastopol falters before the death-blast.

Yet gay in the palace their glasses are clinking,
And merry lips laugh o'er the wine they are drinking.
But there's blood, crimson blood, in the rose-rippled tide,
And the lips that are laughing are laughing to hide.

The quiver and shiver of hearts that await
But the sound of their trumpet to challenge the fate
Which lies in the splendor of Austria's palace,
Like death in the depths of a rose-crested chalice.

O Tyranny, pause in your soft, silken bower,
And list to the wild, throbbing hearts in this hour!
They're athirst, all athirst, and 'tis blood that they quaff,
Your blood which they drink with that merry, low laugh!

And it drips from their lips to the white marble floor,
And the rich silver service seems dabbled with gore;
But you hear not, you see not: the laugh and the jest
Drown the curse of the gallant Hungarian guest.

But the sound of the trumpet, the rolling of drums,
Through the laugh and the jest to Hungary comes;
While " The Kaiser, the Kaiser is taken at last,
And Austria yields before the death-blast! "

Is the cry that they hear coming nearer and nearer,
As the sound of the trumpet comes clearer and clearer,
With the ringing of Victory's sweet marriage-bell,
Through the booming of cannon-shot, gun-shot, and shell.