Rise up, rise up, And, as the trumpet blowing Chases the dreams of men, As the dawn glowing The stars that left unlit The land and water, Rise up and scatter The dew that covers The print of last night’s lovers— Scatter it, scatter it! While you are listening To the clear horn, Forget, men, everything On this earth new-born, Except that it is lovelier Than any mysteries. Open your eyes to the air That has washed the eyes of the stars Through all the dewy night: Up with the light, To the old wars: Arise, arise.
This poem is in the public domain. Published in Poem-a-Day on January 19, 2019, by the Academy of American Poets.
About this Poem
“The Trumpet” was published in Collected Poems (Ingpen and Grant, 1922).
Philip Edward Thomas was born in London in 1878. A close friend of the poet Robert Frost, he wrote much of his poetry while serving as a soldier during World War I. He was killed in France on April 9, 1917.
Date Published: 1922-01-01
Source URL: https://poets.org/poem/trumpet