The Poetical Works of George Barlow In Ten [Eleven] Volumes |
 | I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
 | V. |
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| I. |
| II. | II. “FIGHT ON”
|
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
| XVI. |
| XVII. |
| XVIII. |
| XIX. |
| XX. |
| XXI. |
| XXII. |
| XXIII. |
| XXIV. |
| XXV. |
| XXVI. |
| XXVII. |
| XXVII. |
| XXIX. |
| XXX. |
| XXXI. |
| XXXII. |
| XXXIII. |
| XXXIV. |
| XXXV. |
| XXXVI. |
| XXXVII. |
| XXXVIII. |
| XXXIX. |
| XL. |
| XLI. |
| XLII. |
| XLIII. |
| XLIV. |
| XLV. |
| XLVI. |
| XLVII. |
| XLVIII. |
| XLIX. |
| L. |
| LI. |
| LII. |
| LIII. |
| LIV. |
| LV. |
| LVI. |
| LVII. |
| LVIII. |
| LIX. |
| LX. |
| LXI. |
| LXII. |
| LXIII. |
| LXIV. |
| LXV. |
| LXVI. |
| LXVII. |
| LXVIII. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
 | The Poetical Works of George Barlow |  |
201
II. “FIGHT ON”
Fight on,—until the noonday sun be dead.
Fight on, until the sun of afternoon
Fade slowly,—till the sun of evening swoon
With blood-shot eyes and smoke-wreaths round his head.
Fight on,—while rises the fierce wrathful red
Disk of the powder-grimed and sword-scarred moon.
Fight on: the army of the stars will soon
Give light. Fight on, when every star has fled.
Fight on, until the sun of afternoon
Fade slowly,—till the sun of evening swoon
With blood-shot eyes and smoke-wreaths round his head.
Fight on,—while rises the fierce wrathful red
Disk of the powder-grimed and sword-scarred moon.
Fight on: the army of the stars will soon
Give light. Fight on, when every star has fled.
Fight through the darkness then, with only light
Of all the enemy's eyes to guide the way
Straight to the enemy's heart.—While sword can smite
And arm can still the mastering will obey,
Fight on. And, falling, first with wild delight
See the foe stagger, in the death-dawn grey.
Of all the enemy's eyes to guide the way
Straight to the enemy's heart.—While sword can smite
And arm can still the mastering will obey,
Fight on. And, falling, first with wild delight
See the foe stagger, in the death-dawn grey.
| The Poetical Works of George Barlow | |