Freedom poems
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Don Juan: Canto The Fourteenth
© George Gordon Byron
If from great nature's or our own abyss
Of thought we could but snatch a certainty,
Condolatory Address To Sarah, Countess Of Jersey, On The Prince Regent's Returning Her Picture To Mr
© George Gordon Byron
When the vain triumph of the imperial lord,
Whom servile Rome obey'd, and yet abhorr'd,
Gave to the vulgar gaze each glorious bust,
That left a likeness of the brave or just;
The Pleasures of Memory - Part I.
© Samuel Rogers
Twilight's soft dews steal o'er the village-green,
With magic tints to harmonize the scene.
Still'd is the hum that thro' the hamlet broke,
When round the ruins of their antient oak
The Pennsylvania Pilgrim
© John Greenleaf Whittier
The Pennsylvania Pilgrim
Never in tenderer quiet lapsed the day
From Pennsylvania's vales of spring away,
Where, forest-walled, the scattered hamlets lay
Those Born In Obscure Times
© Alexander Blok
Those born in obscure times
Do not remember their way.
We, children of Russia's frightful years
Cannot forget a thing.
To Faneuil Hall
© John Greenleaf Whittier
MEN! if manhood still ye claim,
If the Northern pulse can thrill,
Roused by wrong or stung by shame,
Freely, strongly still;
The Wrongs Of Africa, A Poem. Part The First
© William Roscoe
OFFSPRING of love divine, Humanity!
To who, his eldest born, th'Eternal gave
A Fair Melody: To Be Sung By Good Christians
© Hans Sachs
Awake, my heart's delight, awake
Thou Christian host, and hear
A Song Of Australia
© Roderick Flanagan
Joy fills to-day my bosom, and it flies through every vein,
It comes as on the parched plain descends midsummer rain;
It fills my soul with gladness, e'en to aerial beings new,
As sunbeams fall on budding flowers when morning gilds the dew.
Yorktown
© John Greenleaf Whittier
YORKTOWN.
FROM Yorktown's ruins, ranked and still,
Two lines stretch far o'er vale and hill:
Who curbs his steed at head of one?
Runnamede, A Tragedy. Acts III.-V.
© John Logan
What venerable father stands aghast
In yonder porch? Beneath the weight of years,
And crush of sorrow to the earth he bends.
He wrings his hands; casts a wild look to heaven,
And rends his hoary locks. He comes this way.
Heavens, it is Albemarle!-
Mogg Megone - Part II.
© John Greenleaf Whittier
"O, tell me, father, can the dead
Walk on the earth, and look on us,
And lay upon the living's head
Their blessing or their curse?
For, O, last night she stood by me,
As I lay beneath the woodland tree!"
The Greek Girls Lament For Her Lover
© Caroline Norton
IMRA! thy form is vanished
From the proud and patriot band;
Imra! thy voice is silent,
'Mongst the voices of the land.
To My Brother
© Hristo Botev
It's difficult to live, my brother,
among such thick-skulled blunderheads;
the fires of my youth are smothered,
my heart is torn to bitter shreds.
Pharsalia - Book I: The Crossing Of The Rubicon
© Marcus Annaeus Lucanus
First of such deeds I purpose to unfold
The causes - task immense - what drove to arms
A maddened nation, and from all the world
Struck peace away.
