Freedom poems

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The Emigrants: Book II

© Charlotte Turner Smith

Scene, on an Eminence on one of those Downs, which afford to the South a view of the Sea; to the North of the Weald of Sussex. Time, an Afternoon in April, 1793.

The Emigrants: Book I

© Charlotte Turner Smith

Scene, on the Cliffs to the Eastward of the Town of

Brighthelmstone in Sussex. Time, a Morning in November, 1792.

Of Old Sat Freedom

© Alfred Tennyson

Of old sat Freedom on the heights,
The thunders breaking at her feet:
Above her shook the starry lights:
She heard the torrents meet.

Astrophel and Stella

© Sir Philip Sidney

Doubt you to whom my Muse these notes entendeth,
Which now my breast, surcharg'd, to musick lendeth!
To you, to you, all song of praise is due,
Only in you my song begins and endeth.

Eugenia Todd

© Edgar Lee Masters

Have any of you, passers-by,

Had an old tooth that was an unceasing discomfort?

Ode to W. H. Channing

© Ralph Waldo Emerson

Though loath to grieve
The evil time's sole patriot,
I cannot leave
My honied thought
For the priest's cant,
Or statesman's rant.

390. Song-A Health to them that’s awa

© Robert Burns

Note 1. Charles James Fox. [back]
Note 2. Hon. Thos. Erskine, afterwards Lord Erskine. [back]

291. Song-The Captive Ribband

© Robert Burns

DEAR Myra, the captive ribband’s mine,
’Twas all my faithful love could gain;
And would you ask me to resign
The sole reward that crowns my pain?

Sweet Highland Girl, a very showerOf beauty is thy earthly dower!Twice seven consenting years have shedTheir utmost bounty on thy head:And these grey rocks; that household lawn;Those trees, a veil just half withdrawn;This fall of water that doth makeA murmur near the silent lake;This little bay; a quiet roadThat holds in shelter thy Abode--In truth together do ye seemLike something fashioned in a dream;Such Forms as from their covert peepWhen earthly cares are laid asleep!But, O fair Creature! in the lightOf common day, so heavenly bright,I bless Thee, Vision as thou art,I bless thee with a human heart;God shield thee to thy latest years!Thee, neither know I, nor thy peers;And yet my eyes are filled with tears

Ode: Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood

© William Wordsworth

The child is father of the man;And I could wish my days to be Bound each to each by natural piety. (Wordsworth, "My Heart Leaps Up")

It is not to be Thought of

© William Wordsworth

It is not to be thought of that the FloodOf British freedom, which, to the open seaOf the world's praise, from dark antiquityHath flowed, "with pomp of waters, unwithstood,"Roused though it be full often to a moodWhich spurns the check of salutary bands,That this most famous Stream in bogs and sandsShould perish; and to evil and to goodBe lost for ever

America

© Whitfield James Monroe

America , it is to thee,Thou boasted land of liberty, --It is to thee I raise my song,Thou land of blood, and crime, and wrong

Oh Mother of a Mighty Race

OH mother of a mighty race
Yet lovely in thy youthful grace!
The elder dames thy haughty peers
Admire and hate thy blooming years.
With words of shame 5
And taunts of scorn they join thy name.

Aunt Chloe

1.1I remember, well remember,1.2 That dark and dreadful day,1.3When they whispered to me, "Chloe,1.4 Your children's sold away!"

The Gold-Crested Wren

When my hand closed upon thee, worn and spentWith idly dashing on the window-pane,Or clinging to the cornice -- I, that meantAt once to free thee, could not but detain;I dropt my pen, I left th' unfinished lay,To give thee back to freedom; but I took --Oh, charm of sweet occasion! -- one brief lookAt thy bright eyes and innocent dismay;Then forth I sent thee on thy homeward quest,My lesson learnt -- thy beauty got by heart:And if, at times, my sonnet-muse would restShort of her topmost skill, her little best,The memory of thy delicate gold crestShall plead for one last touch, -- the crown of Art