Explore "The Old Sword on the Wall" by Joseph C. Lincoln on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Where the warm spring sunlight, streaming / Through the window, sets its gleaming, / With a softened silver sparkle in the dim and dusky hall, / With its tassel torn and tattered, / And its blade, deep-bruised and battered, / Like a veteran, scarred and weary, hangs the old sword on the wall.
None can tell its stirring story, / None can sing its deeds of glory, / None can say which cause it struck for, or from what limp hand it fell; / On the battle-field they found it, / Where the dead lay thick around it -- / Friend and foe -- a gory tangle -- tossed and torn by shot and shell.