Friday, January 3, 2003

Belisarius Comments

Rating: 3.0

I am poor and old and blind;
The sun burns me, and the wind
Blows through the city gate
And covers me with dust
...
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Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
COMMENTS
Ratnakar Mandlik 06 March 2016

A beautifully conceived soliloquy of an old warrior who fought battles for his monarch when he could and living in pathetic conditions in old age more or less like a beggar.

1 1 Reply
Susan Williams 06 March 2016

To quote a certain weird wealthy businessman- this poem is HUGE. He is talking Ancient History to his generation of retired soldiers and he very well could be talking to all the soldiers since. We honor our warriors till they are too old to march onto the battlefield- then we don't see them begging for bread on the streets

22 0 Reply
Edward Kofi Louis 06 March 2016

Realm and reign! Old with the muse of life. Thanks for sharing.

1 2 Reply
M Asim Nehal 06 March 2016

WOnderful poem to read....I liked it, thanks for sharing.

1 0 Reply
* Sunprincess * 29 August 2015

....an excellent write...nicely composed ★

2 0 Reply
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Portland, Maine
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