Poem Hunter
(1832-1914 / England)


Poem By Theodore Watts-Dunton

'Twas in no glittering tourney's mimic strife,--
'Twas in that bloody fight in Raxton Grove,
While hungry ravens croaked from boughs above,
And frightened blackbirds shrilled the warning fife--
'Twas there, in days when Friendship still was rife.
Mine ancestor who threw the challenge-glove
Conquered and found his foe a soul to love,
Found friendship--Life's great second crown of life.

So I this morning love our North Sea more
Because he fought me well, because these waves
Now weaving sunbows for us by the shore
Strove with me, tossed me in those emerald caves
That yawned above my head like conscious graves--
I love him as I never loved before.

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