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Robert Graves - The Assault Heroic
Work rating: Low

Down in the mud I lay,  
Tired out by my long day  
Of five damned days and nights,  
Five sleepless days and nights,…  
Dream-snatched, and set me where
The dungeon of Despair  
Looms over Desolate Sea,  
Frowning and threatening me  
With aspect high and steep—  
A most malignant keep.
My foes that lay within  
Shouted and made a din,  
Hooted and grinned and cried:  
“Today we’ve killed your pride;  
Today your ardour ends
We’ve murdered all your friends;  
We’ve undermined by stealth  
Your happiness and your health.  
We’ve taken away your hope;  
Now you may droop and mope
To misery and to Death.”  
But with my spear of Faith,  
Stout as an oaken rafter,  
With my round shield of laughter,  
With my sharp, tongue-like sword
That speaks a bitter word,  
I stood beneath the wall  
And there defied them all.  
The stones they cast I caught  
And alchemized with thought
Into such lumps of gold  
As dreaming misers hold.  
The boiling oil they threw  
Fell in a shower of dew,  
Refreshing me; the spears
Flew harmless by my ears,  
Struck quivering in the sod;  
There, like the prophet’s rod,  
Put leaves out, took firm root,  
And bore me instant fruit.
My foes were all astounded,  
Dumbstricken and confounded,  
Gaping in a long row;  
They dared not thrust nor throw.  
Thus, then, I climbed a steep
Buttress and won the keep,  
And laughed and proudly blew  
My horn, “Stand to! Stand to!  
Wake up, sir! Here’s a new  
Attack! Stand to! Stand to!”
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