Freedom poems
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Sea-Gulls of Manhattan
© Henry Van Dyke
Children of the elemental mother,
Born upon some lonely island shore
Metamorphoses: Book The Ninth
© Ovid
The End of the Ninth Book.
Translated into English verse under the direction of
Sir Samuel Garth by John Dryden, Alexander Pope, Joseph Addison,
William Congreve and other eminent hands
The Ring And The Book - Chapter IV - Tertium Quid
© Robert Browning
Is so far clear? You know Violante now,
Compute her capability of crime
By this authentic instance? Black hard cold
Crime like a stone you kick up with your foot
I the middle of a field?
Colin's Mistakes. Written In Imitation Of Spenser's Style
© Matthew Prior
Fast by the banks of Cam was Colin bred,
(Ye Nymphs, for every guard that sacred stream)
A Story Of Doom: Book V.
© Jean Ingelow
And Japhet, having found his father, said,
"Sir, let me also journey when ye go."
Who answered, "Hath thy mother done her part?"
Farewell Old War Horse
© Anonymous
The struggle for freedom has ended they say,
The days of fatigue and Remorse,
But our hearts one and all are in memory today,
We are losing our old friend, the Horse.
The Explorer
© John Le Gay Brereton
So we soared and the earth fell away, and the region of night
Was melted in limitless day of ineffable light
Till the myriad souls of the dead were united as we,
Themselves, and yet merged in the spread of an infinite sea
The joy that is life, and around us, below and above,
The One that all lovers have found, our eternity, Love.
A Letter
© John Greenleaf Whittier
'TIS over, Moses! All is lost!
I hear the bells a-ringing;
Of Pharaoh and his Red Sea host
I hear the Free-Wills singing.*
The Truce of Piscataqua
© John Greenleaf Whittier
"Let your ears be opened wide!
He who speaks has never lied.
Waldron of Piscataqua,
Hear what Squando has to say!
To Poesy
© Charles Harpur
Ah, misery! what were then my lot
Amongst a race of unbelievers
Sordid men who all declare
That earthly gain alone is fair,
And they who pore on bardic lore
Deceived deceivers.
Lines Written In Windsor Park
© Charles Churchill
These verses appeared with Churchill's name to them in the London
Magazine for , and there is no reason to doubt their being
genuine.
Lines Written In August
© Thomas Babbington Macaulay
The day of tumult, strife, defeat, was o'er;
Worn out with toil, and noise, and scorn, and spleen,
I slumbered, and in slumber saw once more
A room in an old mansion, long unseen.
The Death Of Sir James, Lord Of Douglas
© James Clerk Maxwell
"Men may weill wyt, thouch nane thaim tell,
How angry for sorow, and how fell,
Is to tyne sic a Lord as he
To thaim that war off hys mengye.
The Irish Avatar
© George Gordon Byron
Ere the daughter of Brunswick is cold in her grave,
And her ashes still float to their home o'er the tide,
Lo! George the triumphant speeds over the wave,
To the long-cherish'd isle which he loved like his--bride!
Among the Hills
© John Greenleaf Whittier
Through Sandwich notch the west-wind sang
Good morrow to the cotter;
And once again Chocoruas horn
Of shadow pierced the water.
The Farmer's Boy - Summer
© Robert Bloomfield
Here, midst the boldest triumphs of her worth,
NATURE herself invites the REAPERS forth;
Dares the keen sickle from its twelvemonth's rest,
And gives that ardour which in every breast
From infancy to age alike appears,
When the first sheaf its plumy top uprears.
Song Of America
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
And now, when poets are singing
Their songs of olden days,
And now, when the land is ringing
With sweet Centennial lays,
Frederick Henry Hedge D. D. On His 80th Birthday, Dec. 12, 1885
© Christopher Pearse Cranch
WHAT lapse or accident of time
Can dull that soul's sonorous chime
Which owns the priceless heritage
Youth's summer warmth in wintry age?
The Khalif And The Arab
© Madison Julius Cawein
Provoked, astonished, wrinkled angrily,
Hissed Hisham, "Slave! thou know'st me not I see!"
Calmly the youth, "Aye, verily I know,
O mannerless! thy tongue hath told me so,
Thy tongue commanding ere it spake me _peace_--
Soon art thou known, nor late may knowledge cease."
Tale XIII
© George Crabbe
hall,
Sires, sons, and sons of sons, were buried all,
She then abounded, and had wealth to spare
For softening grief she once was doom'd to share;
Thus train'd in misery's school, and taught to
