Freedom poems

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Flint and Feather

© Emily Pauline Johnson

Ojistoh1.2Of him whose name breathes bravery and life1.3And courage to the tribe that calls him chief.1.4I am Ojistoh, his white star, and he1.5Is land, and lake, and sky--and soul to me.

The Landing of the Pilgrim Fathers in New England

© Felicia Dorothea Hemans

"Look now abroad--another race has fill'dThose populous borders--wide the wood recedes,And town shoots up, and fertile realms are till'd;The land is full of harvests and green meads."--BRYANT

I have seen the Cliffs of Dover And the White Horse on the Hill; I have walked the lanes, a rover; I have dreamed beside the rill: I have known the fields awaking To the gentle touch of Spring; The joy of morning breaking, And the peace your twilights bring

Ordinary, Moving

© Gotlieb Phyllis

is the name of the gamelaughing, talking where the ball bouncesin the forgotten schoolyardone hand, the other hand; one foot, the other footyou know the one(Saturday Afternoon Kidblackball-cracker, scotchmint-muncherhandkerchief-chewer extraordinary)clap front, clap backballthwack on the boardfencefront and back, back and frontarms of old beeches reaching over drop theirsawtooth leaves in your hair (as I was sitting beneath a tree a birdie sent his love to me and as I wiped it from my eye I thought: thank goodness cows can't fly)tweedle, twydlecurtsey, saluteand roundaboutuntil you're out

the shadows turn, the light is longand while you're out you sing this song

this year, next year, sometime, never en roule-en ma boule roule-en we'll be friends for ever and ever

Pimperroquet, le roi des papillons se faisant la barbe, il se coupa le menton une, une, c'est la lune deux, deux, c'est le jeuseven, eight trois, trois -- c'est à toi!nine, a-lauraten a-laura echod, shtaimSecord hamelech bashomayim echod, shtaim, sholosh, ar-ba

The Rising Village

© Oliver Goldsmith

Thou dear companion of my early years,Partner of all my boyish hopes and fears,To whom I oft addressed the youthful strain,And sought no other praise than thine to gain;Who oft hast bid me emulate his fameWhose genius formed the glory of our name;Say, when thou canst, in manhood's ripened age,With judgment scan the more aspiring page,Wilt thou accept this tribute of my lay,By far too small thy fondness to repay?Say, dearest Brother, wilt thou now excuseThis bolder flight of my adventurous muse? If, then, adown your cheek a tear should flowFor Auburn's Village, and its speechless woe;If, while you weep, you think the

The Death of the Wolf

© Toru Dutt

Written in the chateau of M * * *

An Evening Contemplation in a College

© Duncombe John

The Curfew tolls the hour of closing gates,With jarring sound the porter turns the key,Then in his dreary mansion slumb'ring waits,And slowly, sternly quits it -- tho' for me.

To the Ladies

© Lady Mary Wortley Montagu

WIFE and servant are the same,But only differ in the name :For when that fatal knot is ty'd,Which nothing, nothing can divide :When she the word obey has said,And man by law supreme has made,Then all that's kind is laid aside,And nothing left but state and pride :Fierce as an eastern prince he grows,And all his innate rigour shows :Then but to look, to laugh, or speak,Will the nuptial contract break

Relative

© Christakos Margaret

The mysterious boy withoutparents has a gash in his purpleface & out of it unfolds an escalatorof primitive idiom at which we grimacewith involutant ribcages.

The Pleasures of Hope

© Thomas Campbell

PART I

Childe Harold's Pilgrimage: Canto the Fourth

© George Gordon Byron

I A palace and a prison on each hand: I saw from out the wave her structures rise As from the stroke of the enchanter's wand: A thousand years their cloudy wings expand Around me, and a dying Glory smiles O'er the far times, when many a subject land Look'd to the winged Lion's marble piles,Where Venice sate in state, thron'd on her hundred isles!

II Rising with her tiara of proud towers At airy distance, with majestic motion, A ruler of the waters and their powers: And such she was; her daughters had their dowers From spoils of nations, and the exhaustless East Pour'd in her lap all gems in sparkling showers

Land of Hope and Glory

© Benson Arthur Christopher

(1) 1902 Version: VI. Land of Hope and Glory. Finale (Contralto Solo and Tutti)

The Minstrel; or, The Progress of Genius

© James Beattie

THE FIRST BOOK (excerpts) The steep where Fame's proud temple shines afar! Ah! who can tell how many a soul sublime Hath felt the influence of malignant star, And wag'd with Fortune an eternal war! Check'd by the scoff of Pride, by Envy's frown, And Poverty's unconquerable bar, In life's low vale remote hath pin'd aloneThen dropt into the grave, unpitied and unknown!

And yet, the languor of inglorious days Not equally oppressive is to all

The Fight at Montgomery's

© Anonymous

They have met -- that small band, resolved to be free,As the fierce winds of Heaven that course over the sea --They have met, in bright hope, with no presage of fear,Tho' the bugle and drum of the foeman they hear:Some seize the dread rifle, some wield the tall pike,For God and their country -- for Freedom they strike,No proud ensign of glory bespeaks their renown,Yet the scorn of defiance now darkens their frown

Ode to the Country Gentlemen of England

Thou, heedless Albion, what, alas, the while Dost thou presume? O inexpert in arms, Yet vain of freedom, how dost thou beguile, With dreams of hope, these near and loud alarms? Thy splendid home, thy plan of laws renown'd, The praise and envy of the nations round, What care hast thou to guard from fortune's sway? Amid the storms of war, how soon may all The lofty pile from its foundations fall,Of ages the proud toil, the ruin of a day!

No: thou art rich, thy streams and fertile vales Add industry's wise gifts to nature's store: And every port is crowded with thy sails, And every wave throws treasure on thy shore

For a Column at Runnymede

Thou, who the verdant plain dost traverse hereWhile Thames among his willows from thy viewRetires; O stranger, stay thee, and the sceneAround contemplate well

The Campaign

While crowds of princes your deserts proclaim,Proud in their number to enroll your name;While emperors to you commit their cause,And Anna's praises crown the vast applause,Accept, great leader, what the muse indites,That in ambitious verse records your fights,Fir'd and transported with a theme so new:Ten thousand wonders op'ning to my viewShine forth at once, sieges and storms appear,And wars and conquests fill th' important year,Rivers of blood I see, and hills of slain;An Iliad rising out of one campaign