Freedom poems
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To the dead in the grave-yard under my window
© Adelaide Crapsey
How can you lie so still? All day I watch
And never a blade of all the green sod moves
The Farmer's Boy - Spring
© Robert Bloomfield
Down, indignation! hence, ideas foul!
Away the shocking image from my soul!
Let kindlier visitants attend my way,
Beneath approaching _Summer's_ fervid ray;
Nor thankless glooms obtrude, nor cares annoy,
Whilst the sweet theme is _universal joy_.
Hunting Song
© Robert Bloomfield
Ye darksome Woods where Echo dwells,
Where every bud with freedom swells
To meet the glorious day:
The morning breaks; again rejoice;
And with old Ringwood's well-known voice
Bid tuneful Echo play.
The Tent On The Beach
© John Greenleaf Whittier
I would not sin, in this half-playful strain,--
Too light perhaps for serious years, though born
The Judgement of Hercules
© William Shenstone
Wrapp'd in a pleased suspense, the youth survey'd
The various charms of each attractive maid:
Alternate each he view'd, and each admired,
And found, alternate, varying flames inspired:
Quick o'er their forms his eyes with pleasure ran,
When she, who first approach'd him, first began:-
"Thus Saith The Lord, I Offer Thee Three Kings."
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
IN poisonous dens, where traitors hide
Like bats that fear the day,
While all the land our charters claim
Is sweating blood and breathing flame,
Dead to their country's woe and shame,
The recreants whisper STAY!
The Death Of Shelley
© Charles Harpur
Fit winding-sheet for thee
Was the upheaving eternal sea,
Fit dirge the tempests slave-alarming roll
For yokeless as the waves alway
How Tuneful Is The Voice Of Sea
© Fyodor Ivanovich Tyutchev
How tuneful is the voice of sea,
What true accord in ocean's murmur,
And in the reed's light, rhythmic tremour
What tender musicality!
America The Beautiful
© Katharine Lee Bates
O beautiful for spacious skies,
For amber waves of grain,
The Duellist - Book II
© Charles Churchill
Deep in the bosom of a wood,
Out of the road, a Temple stood:
The Shepheardes Calender: December
© Edmund Spenser
I thee beseche (so be thou deigne to heare,
Rude ditties tund to shepheards Oaten reede,
Or if I euer sonet song so cleare,
As it with pleasaunce mought thy fancie feede)
Hearken awhile from thy greene cabinet,
The rurall song of carefull Colinet.
An Epistle To Dr. Moore
© Helen Maria Williams
Whether dispensing hope, and ease
To the pale victim of disease,
Or in the social crowd you sit,
And charm the group with sense and wit,
Moore's partial ear will not disdain
Attention to my artless strain.
The Princess (part 5)
© Alfred Tennyson
Home they brought her warrior dead:
She nor swooned, nor uttered cry:
All her maidens, watching, said,
'She must weep or she will die.'
Ye Heralds Of Freedom
© Anonymous
Ye heralds of freedom, ye noble and brave,
Who dare to insist on the rights of the slave,
Go onward, go onward, your cause is of God,
And he will soon sever the oppressor's strong rod.
Mr. Hosea Biglow To The Editor Of The Atlantic Monthly
© James Russell Lowell
DEAR SIR,--Your letter come to han'
Requestin' me to please be funny;
To A Young Lady, With A Poem On The French Revolution
© Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Much on my early youth I love to dwell,
Ere yet I bade that friendly dome farewell,
Where first, beneath the echoing cloisters, pale,
I heard of guilt and wondered at the tale!
Runnamede, A Tragedy. Prologue
© John Logan
Yet lost to fame is virtue's orient reign;
The patriot lived, the hero died in vain,
Dark night descended o'er the human day,
And wiped the glory of the world away:
Whirled round the gulf, the acts of time were tost,
Then in the vast abyss for ever lost.
