Freedom poems
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Don Juan: Canto The Third
© George Gordon Byron
The isles of Greece, the Isles of Greece!
Where burning Sappho loved and sung,
Where grew the arts of war and peace,
Where Delos rose, and Phoebus sprung!
Eternal summer gilds them yet,
But all, except their sun, is set.
Ode To The Spirit Of The Earth In Autumn
© George Meredith
The crimson-footed nymph is panting up the glade,
With the wine-jar at her arm-pit, and the drunken ivy-braid
Round her forehead, breasts, and thighs: starts a Satyr, and they
speed:
Hear the crushing of the leaves: hear the cracking of the bough!
And the whistling of the bramble, the piping of the weed!
The Bartholdi Statue
© John Greenleaf Whittier
The land, that, from the rule of kings,
In freeing us, itself made free,
Our Old World Sister, to us brings
Her sculptured Dream of Liberty,
Trafalgar Day
© George Meredith
He leads: we hear our Seaman's call
In the roll of battles won;
For he is Britain's Admiral
Till setting of her sun.
Zellen Woones Honey To Buy Zomehat Sweet
© William Barnes
Why, his heart's lik' a popple, so hard as a stwone,
Vor 'tis money, an' money's his ho,
The Fate Of Bass
© Mary Hannay Foott
On the snow-line of the summit stood the Spaniard's English slave;
And the frighted condor westward flew afar--
Bruce and the Abbot
© Sir Walter Scott
The Abbot on the threshold stood,
And in his hand the holy rood:
The Silent Victors
© James Whitcomb Riley
Dying for victory, cheer on cheer
Thundered on his eager ear.
--CHARLES L. HOLSTEIN.
OBIIT MDCCCXXXIII (Entire)
© Alfred Tennyson
Thou wilt not leave us in the dust:
Thou madest man, he knows not why,
He thinks he was not made to die;
And thou hast made him: thou art just.
The Hottentot
© Thomas Pringle
Mild, melancholy, and sedate, he stands,
Tending another's flock upon the fields,
A Stanza on Freedom
© James Russell Lowell
THEY are slaves who fear to speak
For the fallen and the weak;
The Seven Year Old Poet
© Arthur Rimbaud
And so the Mother, shutting up the duty book,
Went, proud and satisfied.
The Brus Book I
© John Barbour
Storys to rede ar delatibill
Suppos that thai be nocht bot fabill,
Than suld storys that suthfast wer
The New Wife and the Old
© John Greenleaf Whittier
Dark the halls, and cold the feast,
Gone the bridemaids, gone the priest.
All is over, all is done,
Twain of yesterday are one!
Blooming girl and manhood gray,
Autumn in the arms of May!
Alfred. Book VI.
© Henry James Pye
But when he views, along the tented field,
With trailing banner, and inverted shield,
Young Donald, borne by Scotia's weeping bands,
In deeper woe the generous hero stands.
To The South
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
Heart of the Southland, heed me pleading now,
Who bearest, unashamed, upon my brow
The long kiss of the loving tropic sun,
And yet, whose veins with thy red current run.
