En.Citatepedia^®.ro

To America in 1915

We watch your attitudes with candid eyes:
Plain men are we, not given much to prate,
Bluntly sincere, keenly compassionate
But lions in our wrath at treacheries;
Britons are we though under Austral skies
And of our lineage proud, fearless of Fate
For we have stamped our manhood with the great
Traditions – Britain's glorious legacies.

We've given ample proof we are a friend
Pledged to the truths your Pilgrim Fathers kenned,
The pure ideals of a people free
Which – are you blind? – our British arms defend
From ravages of vandals that would rend
The very vitals of Democracy.

poem by Arthur Bayldon
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

To Arms! (II)

Now let the cry, ``To Arms! To Arms!''
Go ringing round the world;
And swift a wave-wide Empire swarms
Round Battleflag unfurled!
Wherever glitters Britain's might,
Or Britain's banner flies,
Leap up mailed myriads with the light
Of manhood in their eyes;
Calling from farmstead, mart, and strand,
``We come! And we! And we!
That British steel may hold the land,
And British keels the sea!''

From English hamlet, Irish hill,
Welsh hearths, and Scottish byres,
They throng to show that they are still
Sons worthy of their sires:
That what these did, we still can do,
That what they were, we are,
Whose fathers fought at Waterloo,
And died at Trafalgar!
Shoulder to shoulder see them stand,
Wherever menace be,
To guard the lordship of the land
And the Trident of the sea.

Nor in the parent Isle alone
Spring squadrons from the ground;
Canadian shore and Austral zone
With kindred cry resound:
``From shimmering plain and snow-fed stream,
Across the deep we come,
Seeing the British bayonets gleam,
Hearing the British drum.
Foot in the stirrup, hilt in hand,
Free men, to keep men free,
All, all will help to hold the land
While England guards the sea!''

Comrades in arms, from every shore
Where thundereth the main,
On to the front they press and pour
To face the rifles' rain;
To force the foe from covert crag,
And chase them till they fall,
Then plant for ever England's Flag
Upon the rebel wall!
What! Wrench the Sceptre from her hand,
And bid her bow the knee!
Not while her Yeomen guard the land,
And her ironclads the sea!

poem by Alfred Austin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Watching You, Watching Me, Watching You, Watching Everyone

So this is Great Britain
A green and pleasant land?
The home of CCTV Camera’s
To get speeding drivers banned

So this is Great Britain
The welfare state, & NHS
Great British Institutions?
Some think they’re in a mess

So this Is Great Britain
That once ruled the waves
An Empire and a Commonwealth?
Now issues ASBO’s if one misbehaves

So this is Great Britain
The Mother of Democracy?
The House of Commons and Lords
Ensuring justice & liberty?

So this is Great Britain
Where God saves the Queen
A land of hope & glory?
You can vote at age eighteen

So this is Great Britain
Are the pensioners in poverty?
They’ve never had it so good?
They’re all having a nice cup of tea

So this is Great Britain
A class system breeding inequality
Education, Education, Education?
Needing a dose of political honesty

So this is Great Britain
Still the mother of the free?
The police, council, & MI5
Are watching you or watching me

poem by Gordon David
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

The Flag

See the glorious stars and stripes,
Floating over there;
See how gracefully they wave
In the summer air.
We love to see that starry flag,
Wave in peace with ease,
And its colors, red, white and blue,
Unfurled to the breeze.

God grant that flag may ever wave
O'er our native land,
Where sons of freemen are united
In a happy band,
To celebrate the glorious Fourth,
The day we should adore;
Hail each anniversary day,
Now and evermore.

Our fathers fought beneath that flag
In the days of yore,
To gain their freedom from British laws,
Which they could not endure.
The cry was then for liberty,
On land and on sea;
They gained the glorious victory --
Our country now is free.

The land of Columbia's sons,
To-day is filled with joy;
Every heart should beat as one,
In the blessings we enjoy.
We should love our native land,
Where our fathers died,
We should keep the country free --
The early pilgrim's pride.

See the glorious stars and stripes,
Waving over there,
See the starry emblem, friends,
Floating in the air.
Proud it waves o'er our land,
Where it has waved for years,
May every freeman greet that flag
With three rousing cheers.

poem by Julia A Moore
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

My Fathers Eyes

(by eric clapton)
Sailing down behind the sun,
Waiting for my prince to come.
Praying for the healing rain
To restore my soul again.
Just a toerag on the run.
How did I get here?
What have I done?
When will all my hopes arise?
How will I know him?
When I look in my fathers eyes.
My fathers eyes.
When I look in my fathers eyes.
My fathers eyes.
Then the light begins to shine
And I hear those ancient lullabies.
And as I watch this seedling grow,
Feel my heart start to overflow.
Where do I find the words to say?
How do I teach him?
What do we play?
Bit by bit, Ive realized
Thats when I need them,
Thats when I need my fathers eyes.
My fathers eyes.
Thats when I need my fathers eyes.
My fathers eyes.
Then the jagged edge appears
Through the distant clouds of tears.
Im like a bridge that was washed away;
My foundations were made of clay.
As my soul slides down to die.
How could I lose him?
What did I try?
Bit by bit, Ive realized
That he was here with me;
I looked into my fathers eyes.
My fathers eyes.
I looked into my fathers eyes.
My fathers eyes.
My fathers eyes.
My fathers eyes.
I looked into my fathers eyes.
My fathers eyes.

song performed by by Eric Clapton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

She's One of The Fearless Ones

Reminiscing with old friend about the past.
she is another one of those fearless ones.
Courage against it all.
Waging a sentimental war against world.
living by a means to an end.
a great sacrifice so others can have a better life.
She is one the fearless ones.
Braver then i could ever be.
no hypothetical bull. do or step back.
no hesitation in a moment of desperation.
no time to wait for the collaboration.
what is best must be done.
Oh yes most definitely she is one of the fearless ones.
preach what ever you want. but she will.
it doesn't make any less real. giving it all up.
all i can say to haters and debaters is shut up and get out of her way.
No time for all this talk
when none have walked that path in
which a great sacrifice must be made of course
she is one fearless ones.
how could that ever be doubted listen me
as i shout it oh yes she ones of the fearless one.
the walk of angel, the pain from plenty of demons,
proud enough to tell you off,
but humble enough to give her shirt off her back.
she is one of the fearless ones

poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Tribal Ways (Enemies of Match)

Every man with an opinion
Equal in valour and in strength equal
At the advent of the British
Who were carrying the flag
Of the queen with intentions
To conquer the lions and wolves
The British from India
Offered to make a few nabobs
The reply was that we are all nabobs
Can you make all nabobs
In retreat then a titular representation
In treaty like with sovereigns
With each tribe the British
Gave respect to the traditions
Commanded respect
Enemies of match
They laid arms
To each other
And the rest would follow
Between lovers of freedom
On the land they said theirs
And many more claimants
For the soil and souls
For the minds and ferocity
20/4/2009

poem by Sadiqullah Khan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Freedom Is Never Free

They tell me
'Freedom is never free.'
I know that-
More than most realize.
Freedom cost us more
Than we should have to give.
Freedom cost us blood.
It cost us the lives
Of our fathers,
Our sons,
Our brothers.
But while freedom is never free,
Remember-
It has been bought at great price,
And so is a thing of great value.
We must defend it,
From those who would take it away.
The defense of our freedoms
Will cost us-
More than we wish to pay.
But we must pay, to defend,
For if we try to make freedom free,
We forget-
True freedom is never free.

poem by James Grengs
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Rule Britannia

When Britain first, at Heaven's command,
Arose from out the azure main;
This was the charter of the land,
And guardian angels sung this strain:
"Rule, Britannia, rule the waves;
Britons never will be slaves."

The nations, not so blest as thee,
Must, in their turns, to tyrants fall:
While thou shalt flourish great and free,
The dread and envy of them all.
"Rule, Britannia, rule the waves;
Britons never will be slaves."

Still more majestic shalt thou rise,
More dreadful, from each foreign stroke:
As the loud blast that tears the skies,
Serves but to root thy native oak.
"Rule, Britannia, rule the waves;
Britons never will be slaves."

Thee haughty tyrants ne'er shall tame:
All their attempts to bend thee down,
Will but arouse thy generous flame;
But work their woe, and thy renown.
"Rule, Britannia, rule the waves;
Britons never will be slaves."

To thee belongs the rural reign;
Thy cities shall with commerce shine:
All thine shall be the subject main,
And every shore it circles thine.
"Rule, Britannia, rule the waves;
Britons never will be slaves."

The Muses, still with freedom found,
Shall to thy happy coast repair:
Blest isle! with matchless beauty crown'd,
And manly hearts to guard the fair.
"Rule, Britannia, rule the waves;
Britons never will be slaves."

poem by James Thomson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

The Answer

Men and boys, O fathers, brothers,
Burst these fetters round you bound.
Women, sisters, wives and mothers,
Lift your faces from the ground!
O Democracy, O People,
East and West and North and South,
Rise together, one for ever,
Strike this Crime upon the mouth!
Bid them not, the men who loved you,
Those who fought for you and died,
Scorn you that you broke a small Crime,
Left a great Crime pass in pride!
England, France, the played-out countries,
Let them reek there in their stew,
Let their past rot out their present,
But the Future is with you!
O America, O first-born
Of the age that yet shall be
Where all men shall be as one man,
Noble, faithful, fearless, free! —
O America, O paramour
Of the foul slave-owner Pelf,
You who saved from slavery others,
Now from slavery save yourself! —
Save yourself, though, anguish-shaken,
You cry out and bow your head,
Crying 'Why am I forsaken?'
Crying 'It is finishèd!'
Save yourself, no God will save you;
Not one angel can he give!
They and He are dead and vanished,
And 'tis you, 'tis you must live!
Risen again, fire-tried, victorious,
From the grave of Crime down-hurled,
Peerless, pure, serene and glorious,
Wield the sceptre of the world!

poem by Francis William Lauderdale Adams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

To His Royal Highness The Prince Of Wales

While secret-leaguing nations frown around,
Ready to pour the long-expected storm;
While she, who wont the restless Gaul to bound,
Britannia, drooping, grows an empty form;
While on our vitals selfish parties prey,
And deep corruption eats our soul away;

Yet in the Goddess of the Main appears
A gleam of joy, gay-flushing every grace,
As she the cordial voice of millions hears,
Rejoicing, zealous, o'er thy rising race:
Straight her rekindling eyes resume their fire,
The Virtues smile, the Muses tune the lyre.

But more enchanting than the Muse's song,
United Britons thy dear offspring hail;
The city triumphs through her glowing throng,
The shepherd tells his transport to the dale;
The sons of roughest toil forget their pain,
And the glad sailor cheers the midnight main.

Can aught from fair Augusta's gentle blood,
And thine, thou friend of liberty! be born;
Can aught save what is lovely, generous, good;
What will, at once, defend us, and adorn?
From thence, prophetic joy! new Edwards eyes,
New Henries, Annas, and Elizas rise.

May fate my fond devoted days extend,
To sing the promised glories of thy reign!
What though, by years depressed, my muse might bend,
My heart will teach her still a nobler strain:
How, with recovered Britain, will she soar,
When France insults, and Spain shall rob no more.

poem by James Thomson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

To Mr. Addison on His Tragedy of Cato

Too long hath love engross'd Britannia's stage,
And sunk to softness all our tragic rage:
By that alone did empires fall or rise,
And fate depended on a fair-one's eyes:
The sweet infection, mixt with dangerous art,
Debas'd our manhood, while it sooth'd the heart.
You scorn to raise a grief thyself must blame,
Nor from our weakness steal a vulgar fame:
A patriot's fall may justly melt the mind,
And tears flow nobly, shed for all mankind.

How do our souls with generous pleasure glow!
Our hearts exulting, while our eyes o'erflow,
When thy firm hero stands beneath the weight
Of all his sufferings venerably great;
Rome's poor remains still sheltering by his side,
With conscious virtue, and becoming pride!
The aged oak thus rears his head in air,
His sap exhausted, and his branches bare;
'Midst storms and earthquakes, he maintains his state,
Fixt deep in earth, and fasten'd by his weight

His naked boughs still lend the shepherds aid,
And his old trunk projects an awful shade.
Amidst the joys triumphant peace bestows,
Our patriots sadden at his glorious woes;
Awhile they let the world's great business wait,
Anxious for Rome, and sigh for Cato's fate.
Here taught how ancient heroes rose to fame,
Our Britons crowd, and catch the Roman flame,
Where states and senates well might lend an ear,
And kings and priests without a blush appear.

France boasts no more, but, fearful to engage,
Now first pays homage to her rival's stage,
Hastes to learn thee, and learning shall submit
Alike to British arms, and British wit:
No more she'll wonder, forc'd to do us right,
Who think like Romans, could like Romans fight.
Thy Oxford smiles this glorious work to see,
And fondly triumphs in a son like thee.
The senates, consuls, and the gods of Rome,
Like old acquaintance at their native home,

In thee we find: each deed, each word exprest,
And every thought that swell'd a Roman breast,
We trace each hint that could thy soul inspire
With Virgil's judgement, and with Lucan's fire;
We know thy worth, and, give us leave to boast,
We most admire, because we know thee most.

poem by Thomas Tickell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Never Mind

My Country, though rude yet, and wild, be thy nature,
This alone our proud love should beget and command:
There's noon in thy broad breast for Manhood's full stature,
And honest Endeavour's a lord in the land.

And though much of thy bounty, by aliens in feeling
Has been made upon heads the least worthy to fall,
Their reign is nigh past, and the wrong is fast healing,
And they wide arms encircle a home for us all.

And though pygmies high placed in our councils yet fool us,
In our woods there's a Giant upgrowing the while -
The Spirit of Liberty destined to rule us,
And cheer on the world from the great Austral Isle!

poem by Charles Harpur
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

America

-for pilgrim sake,
and land once, of 'Native' soil
Allegiance pledged, of
conquest gained, from
Earth's borne spirits' bold.

America, Proud America

Our Earth, need not be harmed
when war tales are often told
and blood stained flags, unfold

America, we Love thee

of gifted Earth bequeathed
ne'er we forget, Democracy,
and all those enslaved, be free

America America

May true freedom be our Quest
Of Womanhood and Brotherhood
from shore to ocean sea.

'With Love and Compassion,
Wherever Earth Be Shared'

Please; 'Support Peace'

Louie Levy
WW ll Vet.

poem by Louie Levy
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

The concepts of Joss are pure, and express attitudes and technical ideals.

quote by Cliff Shaw
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

A Blouse Machinist

Miss Murphy has blue eyes and blue-black hair,
Her machine's opposite mine
So I can stare
At her pale face and shining blue-black hair.
I'm sure that other people think her plain
But I could look at her
And look again
Although I see why people think her plain.
She's nice to watch when her machine-belt breaks.
She has such delicate hands
And arms, it takes
Ages for her to mend it when it breaks.
Oh, beauty's still elusive and she's fine.
Though all the moulding
Of her face, the line
Of nose, mouth, chin is Mongol, yet she's fine.
Of course things would be different in Japan.
They'd see her beauty.
On a silken fan
They'd paint her for a princess in Japan.
But still her loveliness eludes the blind.
They never use their eyes
But just their mind.
So must much loveliness elude the blind.

poem by Lesbia Harford
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

God Defend New Zealand

God of Nations at Thy feet,
In the bonds of love we meet,
Hear our voices, we entreat,
God defend our free land.
Guard Pacific's triple star
From the shafts of strife and war,
Make her praises heard afar,
God defend New Zealand.

Men of every creed and race,
Gather here before Thy face,
Asking Thee to bless this place,
God defend our free land.
From dissension, envy, hate,
And corruption guard our State,
Make our country good and great,
God defend New Zealand.

Peace, not war, shall be our boast,
But, should foes assail our coast,
Make us then a mighty host,
God defend our free land.
Lord of battles in Thy might,
Put our enemies to flight,
Let our cause be just and right,
God defend New Zealand.

Let our love for Thee increase,
May Thy blessings never cease,
Give us plenty, give us peace,
God defend our free land.
From dishonour and from shame,
Guard our country's spotless name,
Crown her with immortal fame,
God defend New Zealand.

May our mountains ever be
Freedom's ramparts on the sea,
Make us faithful unto Thee,
God defend our free land.
Guide her in the nation's van,
Preaching love and truth to man,
Working out Thy glorious plan,
God defend New Zealand.

poem by Thomas Bracken
Submitted by anonym
Vote! | Copy!

The House of Peers

When Britain really ruled the waves -
(In good Queen Bess's time)
The House of Peers made no pretence
To intellectual eminence,
Or scholarship sublime;
Yet Britain won her proudest bays
In good Queen Bess's glorious days!

When Wellington thrashed Bonaparte,
As every child can tell,
The House of Peers, throughout the war,
Did nothing in particular,
And did it very well;
Yet Britain set the world ablaze
In good King George's glorious days!

And while the House of Peers withholds
Its legislative hand,
And noble statesmen do not itch
To interfere with matters which
They do not understand,
As bright will shine Great Britain's rays,
As in King George's glorious days!

poem by William Schwenck Gilbert
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Fathers Eyes

I may not be every mothers dream for her little girl,
And my face may not grace the mind of everyone in the world.
But thats all right, as long as I can have one wish I pray:
When people look inside my life, I want to hear them say,
Shes got her fathers eyes,
Her fathers eyes;
Eyes that find the good in things,
When good is not around;
Eyes that find the source of help,
When help just cant be found;
Eyes full of compassion,
Seeing every pain;
Knowing what youre going through
And feeling it the same.
Just like my fathers eyes,
My fathers eyes,
My fathers eyes,
Just like my fathers eyes.
And on that day when we will pay for all the deeds we have done,
Good and bad theyll all be had to see by everyone.
And when youre called to stand and tell just what you saw in me,
More than anything I know, I want your words to be,
She had her fathers eyes,
Her fathers eyes;
Eyes that found the good in things,
When good was not around;
Eyes that found the source of help,
When help would not be found;
Eyes full of compassion,
Seeing every pain;
Knowing what youre going through,
And feeling it the same.
Just like my fathers eyes,
My fathers eyes,
My fathers eyes,
Just like my fathers eyes.
My fathers eyes,
My fathers eyes,
Just like my fathers eyes.

song performed by by Amy Grant
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

Democracy

(Democracy in India has become a fun for certain people. The nexus between the corrupt politicians and corrupt officers is responsible for degrading the values of democracy)

People's state for the people, by the people,
But what kind of people?
Criminals, robbers murderers, rapists,
And off-course the corrupts,
These are the people?
And
honest, simple and plain speaking
Feel suffocated,
If this is democracy,
I denounce it.

poem by Mohammad Akmal Nazir
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

What Glorious times These Are Thus Far

Great!
This is wonderful news.
The people have become outraged.
Completely sobered from their dazing stupors.
Magnificent!

And he who started this uproar?
The one from the pulpit who told it like it is?
Hopefully the momentum of it,
Will gain continued priceless revelation.
Finally.

The people begin to unbuckle,
From the seats of their fantasies.
And those adorning those rusted halos...
Now is the time for them to probe a little deeper,
Into their adopted prophesies.
What better times could these times be?

Who knew...
The silence of massive deceptions,
Would escalate into such meaning dialogue...
To uncloak without exception!
Of course racism does and has existed.
Only those nonbelieving,
Are those enclosed and themselves twisted.
Kneeling in front of symbols...
And praising the gods to which they lift!
It's in the fabric that has masked their greed.
Oh what glorious days are these!

Those who fed their appetites on hate,
Can no longer hide behind the myths of their false deeds.
This stench to secretly keep covered revenge.
Has from one man been unhinged.
We'll see who's blood is red when aired!
And not of royal blue...
When this mindless feud becomes publicly bared!
Where are the cloakers?
The ones who boast with self righteousness?

What glorious times these are!
Those who have benefitted...
From misrepresentations to fill their fists.
Will see who has given.
And what has been taken from whom!
Even from wombs they want to abort!
But these are not those times anymore.
Their explanations have come up short!
Let these truths begin!
What glorious times these times are!
These times we are witnessing.
And blessed to live in.
To have an awakening of truths to start.
'Real' truths that do not end!
What glorious times these are thus far!
With everything in the open...
And the pretense of a shallowness to defend!
Yes...
These are the days of our lives!
Revealed without apology!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!