Excerpt from The Last David, and Other Poems
Warder (alone).
Weary am I, and heartsick. Night and day
Rolls on the din of battle, and the air
Is thick with cries of slaughter at the walls,
And death-groans in the streets, where the blue famine
Strikes down our people hourly, and plague runs
Through thin ranks of defenders, as a flash
Of lightning rending loftiest cedars down.
And worse than all, that bane of all our hope,
Unceasing faction...
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