Far inland here Death's pinions mocked the roar
Of English seas;
We sleep to wake no more,
Hushed, and at ease;
Till sound a trump, shore on to echoing shore,
Rouse from a peace, unwonted then to war,
Us and our enemies.
Truce
Walter De La Mare
(1)
Poem topics: death, peace, sleep, war, sound, shore, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
Submit Spanish Translation
Submit German Translation
Submit French Translation
<< The Exile Poem
Iago Poem>>
Write your comment about Truce poem by Walter De La Mare
Best Poems of Walter De La Mare