The Private Despatch of Captain Bumble of the 40th stationed at Ballarat to His Excellency Sir Charles Hotham
He writes thus to His Excellency;
Myself and Major Stiggings
Go our brave fellows all equipped
And started for the diggings.
Our band struck up God Save the Queen,
Into cheers our men were bursting,
And every gallant soldier was
For glorious action thirsting.
Our first attack was on two drays,
Which we saw in the distance,
But the enemy just surrendered,
After just a slight resistance.
We were disappointed in our search,
Of these two wretched traitors,
For instead of seizing powder,
It was loaded with potatoes.
At length into the diggings,
Footsore our men did tramp there,
And we took up our position
Within the Government Camp there.
We watched at night, but all was still,
For glory we were yearning,
And we fired upon a tent in which
A candle was seen burning
We killed a woman and a child,
Thought ‘twas not our intention.
But that slight mistakes sometimes occur,
Of course I needn’t mention
And so on for many verses.
poem by Charles Thatcher
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Related quotes
Brave Little Soldier
Im a brave little soldier
I must be bold and strong
A brave little soldier
And I must carry on
Im a brave little soldier
A brave little soldier
Im a brave little soldier
I must fight, I must win
Im a brave little soldier
Through hell and back again
Im a brave little soldier
A brave little soldier
Per rum, pum, pum
Per rum, pum, pum
Per rum, pum, pum, pum, pum
Ye though I am marching through the valley filled with fear
My steps are sure and sturdy and my aim is straight and clear
The enemy is stalking me just waiting for the kill
Like david slewed galiath
I will claim this battle field
Im a brave little soldier
I must do what I can
Im a brave little soldier
And I must take a stand
Im a brave little soldier
A brave little soldier
Marching, marching onward
Searching out the light of truth
I did not start the war
But its a battle I cant lose
Faith will be my armor
And love my sword and shield
I must defeat the enemy
I will, I will, I will
A brave little soldier
I must be bold and strong
A brave little soldier
And I must carry on
A brave little soldier
A brave little soldier
Im a brave little soldier
A brave little soldier
Brave, little soldier
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Marie Christine
Have you seen the lighthouse shining from the rock
For the ship marie christine and all her gallant lot
Now have you seen the lighthouse
Oh we are close to land
Cried the brave young captain to his wretched band
Now have you seen the harbor cried marie christine
Have you seen the jagged rocks in the waters in between
Now have you seen the lighthouse
Oh save me if you can
For if you do I promise Ill never sail again
Now have you seen the lighthouse shining from the rock
Cried the brave young captain to his wretched lot
Now gather all your photographs
And don your coats of blue
If anyone can save us now, marie christine tis you
When I first saw marie christine the woman that she was
I ssigned aboard toman her sails and honor well her cause
I christened her with old champagne
And I drove her to the west
Of all the men who sailed on her, in truth I sailed her best
Have you seen the lighthouse shining from the rock
For the ship marie christine and all her gallant lot
Now have you seen the lighthouse
Oh we are close to land
Cried the brave young captain to his wretched band
Come all ye would be sailors
All ye would be sailors
All ye would be sailors
If anyone can save us now, marie christine tis you
If anyone can save us now, marie christine tis you
song performed by by Gordon Lightfoot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The guard
We were observing, doing recognisance
on a enemy camp, had parachuted in
during the night, dropping from very high
and my comrades and I had leopard crawled,
catwalked from dark patch to dark patch,
from shadow to shadow
using the cover of knee high grass
and with the sun rising
was in a dense small bush
reporting back on tanks and armoured cars,
the number of soldiers seen,
how battle ready they seemed
when a little boy herded a few goats
and with a bone thin dog came along
and I let them go, not being able
to kill them as the enemy
and almost immediately we had to leave.
Soon hundreds of enemy soldiers
were dropped in search lines,
were trying to cordon us off
and my comrades wasn’t pleased with me,
as things could have been much easier
if I had killed that child
and we went into a river
cutting reeds to breathe through
and went under the surface
trying to shake off the enemy
that was closing in on us
and when the three of us left the river
some large crocodiles
were on the bank where we entered it
and we had the opportunity
to return to the enemy camp
where the next evening
an enemy Cuban soldier lit a big cigar
only a few paces from me
and the child was a far better guard than he.
poem by Gert Strydom
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The Horrors of Majuba
'Twas after the great Majuba fight:
And the next morning, at daylight,
Captain Macbean's men were ordered to headquarters camp,
So immediately Captain Macbean and his men set out on tramp.
And there they were joined by the Blue Jackets and 58th men,
Who, for unflinching courage, no man can them condemn;
And that brave little band was commissioned to bury their dead,
And the little band numbered in all about one hundred.
And they were supplied with a white flag, fit emblem of death,
Then they started off to O'Neill's farm, with bated breath,
Where their comrades had been left the previous night,
And were lying weltering in their gore, oh! what a horrible sight.
And when they arrived at the foot of Majuba Hill,
They were stopped by a Boer party, but they meant no ill,
Who asked them what they wanted without dismay,
And when they said, their dead, there was no further delay.
Then the brave heroes marched on, without any dread,
To the Hill of Majuba to collect and bury their dead;
And to see them climbing Majuba it was a fearful sight,
And much more so on a dark pitch night.
And on Majuba there was a row of dead men,
Numbering about forty or fifty of them;
There were also numbers of wounded men lying on the ground,
And when Captain Macbean's party gazed on them their sorrow was profound.
Oh, heaven! what a sight of blood and brains!
While the grass was red all o'er with blood-stains;
Especially at the edge of the Hill, where the 92nd men were killed,
'Twas there that the eyes of Macbean's party with tears filled,
When they saw their dead and dying comrades in arms,
Who were always foremost in the fight during war's alarms;
But who were now lying dead on Majuba Hill,
And, alas! beyond the aid of all human skill.
They then went about two hundred yards down the Hill,
And collected fourteen more bodies, which made their blood run chill;
And, into one grave, seventy-five bodies they buried there,
All mostly 92nd men, who, I hope, are free from all care.
Oh! think of that gallant British band,
Who, at Majuba, made such a heroic stand,
And, take them altogether, they behaved like brave men,
But, alas! they were slaughtered like sheep in a pen.
Poor fellows! there were few of them left to retire,
Because undauntedly they faced that murderous fire,
That the mighty host poured in upon them, left and right,
From their numerous rifles, day and night.
The conduct of the 92nd was most brave throughout,
Which has always been the case, without any doubt;
At least, it has been the case in general with the Highland Brigade,
Because in the field they are the foremost, and seldom afraid.
And to do the British justice at Majuba they behaved right well,
But by overwhelming numbers the most of them fell,
Which I'm very sorry to relate,
That such a brave little band met with such a fate.
The commanders and officers deserve great praise,
Because they told their men to hold Majuba for three days;
And so they did, until the most of them fell,
Fighting nobly for their Queen and country they loved right well.
But who's to blame for their fate I'm at a loss to know,
But I think 'twas by fighting too numerous a foe;
But there's one thing I know, and, in conclusion, will say,
That their fame will be handed down to posterity for many a day!
poem by William Topaz McGonagall
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Just Because Im A Woman
I can see youre disappointed
By the way you look at me
And Im sorry that Im not
The woman you thought Id be
Yes, Ive made my mistakes
But listen and understand
My mistakes are no worse than yours
Just because Im a woman
So when you look at me
Dont feel sorry for yourself
Just think of all the shame
You might have brought somebody else
Just let me tell you this
Then well both know where we stand
My mistakes are no worse than yours
Just because Im a woman
Now a man will take a good girl
And hell ruin her reputation
But when he wants to marry
Well, thats a different situation
Hell just walk off and leave her
To do the best she can
While he looks for an angel
To wear his wedding band
Now I know that Im no angel
If thats what you thought youd found
I was just the victum of
A man that let me down
Yes, Ive made my mistakes
But listen and understand
My mistakes are no worse than yours
Just because Im a woman
No, my mistakes are no worse than yours
Just because Im a woman
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Downfall of Delhi
'Twas in the year of 1857 and on the 14th of September
That the Sepoy rebels at Delhi were forced to surrender;
The attack was first to be made by Brigadier Nicholson,
And he was ordered to attack the Cashmere Bastion.
The British were entirely in command.
Of Major-General Reid, assisted by Brigadier-Generals Wilson and Burnand;
After a long march, fighting through a hostile country,
And the brave heroes took up a position before the city.
Delhi gates were encircled with a fringe of fire,
But the British resolved to die rather than retire;
And the brave fellows rushed, towards the gate
Carrying the powder bags that were to seal the Sepoys' fate.
Here their progress was checked, for the drawbridge was destroyed,
But the British felt very little annoyed,
Because a few planks were across the chasm thrown,
Then a match was applied to the powder bags, and into atoms the gate was blown.
Then the rebel artillerymen with terror fled,
For the streets were strewn by the Sepoy dead;
Then the British charged them without fear,
Shouting "On boys, on, for our Queen and Country dear."
Then Lieutenant Home gave orders to advance,
And charge them with your bayonets, it is our only chance;
And with a ringing British cheer they charged, them fearlessly,
And. they drove the enemy before them through the streets of the city.
Then the young bugler blew a blast loud and clear,
Which was answered by a British ringing cheer;
But General Nicholson was killed, which was a great loss,
And afterwards the bugler was decorated with the Victoria Cross.
General Jones formed a junction with Colonel Campbell's Regiment,
And to enter by the Cashmere Gate they were bent;
And they advanced through the streets without delay,
And swept all before them through the gate without dismay.
The streets were filled with mutineers who fought savagely,
Determined to fight to the last and die heroically,
While the alarm drums did beat, and the cannons did roar,
And the dead and the dying lay weltering in their gore.
And the rebels fought for King Timour like tigers in a cage,
He was a very old man, more than ninety years of age;
And their shouts and yells were fearful to hear,
While the shrill sound of the bugle smote on the ear.
The British dash at Delhi will never be forgot,
For the chief instigators of the mutiny were shot;
And their bodies in the Mayor's Court were hung,
And as the people gazed thereon, their hearts with anguish were wrung.
And that evening General Wilson drank the health of the Queen,
Also his officers hailed her Empress of India, which enhanced the scene;
While the assembled thousands shouted "God save the Queen!"
Oh! it was a most beautiful scene.
Delhi was a glorious prize, for the city was full of jewels and gold,
Besides a hundred pieces of cannon, be it told;
But dearly was the victory gained,
But in the book of fame the British are famed;
Oh, it was a glorious and heroic victory,
And will be handed down to posterity.
poem by William Topaz McGonagall
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The Battle of Abu Klea
Ye sons of Mars, come join with me,
And sing in praise of Sir Herbert Stewart's little army,
That made ten thousand Arabs flee
At the charge of the bayonet at Abu Klea.
General Stewart's force was about fifteen hundred all told,
A brave little band, but, like lions bold,
They fought under their brave and heroic commander,
As gallant and as skilful as the great Alexander.
And the nation has every reason to be proud,
And in praise of his little band we cannot speak too loud,
Because that gallant fifteen hundred soon put to flight
Ten thousand Arabs, which was a most beautiful sight.
The enemy kept up a harmless fire all night,
And threw up works on General Stewart's right;
Therefore he tried to draw the enemy on to attack,
But they hesitated, and through fear drew back.
But General Stewart ordered his men forward in square,
All of them on foot, ready to die and to dare;
And he forced the enemy to engage in the fray,
But in a short time they were glad to run away.
But not before they penetrated through the British square,
Which was a critical moment to the British, I declare,
Owing to the great number of the Arabs,
Who rushed against their bayonets and received fearful stabs.
Then all was quiet again until after breakfast,
And when the brave little band had finished their repast,
Then the firing began from the heights on the right,
From the breastworks they had constructed during the night;
By eight o'clock the enemy was of considerable strength,
With their banners waving beautifully and of great length,
And creeping steadily up the grassy road direct to the wells,
But the British soon checked their advance by shot and shells.
At ten o'clock brave General Stewart made a counter-attack,
Resolved to turn the enemy on a diferent track;
And he ordered his men to form a hollow square,
Placing the Guards in the front, and teeing them to prepare.
And on the left was the Mounted Infantry,
Which truly was a magnificent sight to see;
Then the Sussex Regiment was on the right,
And the Heavy Cavalry and Naval Brigade all ready to fight.
Then General Stewart took up a good position on a slope,
Where he guessed the enemy could not with him cope,
Where he knew the rebels must advance,
All up hill and upon open ground, which was his only chance.
Then Captain Norton's battery planted shells amongst the densest mass,
Determined with shot and shell the enemy to harass;
Then carne the shock of the rebels against the British square,
While the fiendish shouts of the Arabs did rend the air.
But the steadiness of the Guards, Marines, and Infantry prevailed,
And for the loss of their brother officers they sadly bewailed,
Who fell mortally wounded in the bloody fray,
'Which they will remember for many a long day.
For ten minutes a desperate struggle raged from left to rear
While Gunner Smith saved Lieutenant guthrie's life without dread or fear;
When all the other gunners had been borne back,
He took up a handspike, and the Arabs he did whack.
The noble hero hard blows did strike,
As he swung round his head the handspike;
He seemed like a destroying angel in the midst of the fight
The way he scattered the Arabs left and right.
Oh! it was an exciting and terrible sight,
To see Colonel Burnaby engaged in the fight:
With sword in hand, fighting with might and main,
Until killed by a spear-thrust in the jugular vein.
A braver soldier ne'er fought on a battle-field,
Death or glory was his motto, rather than yield;
A man of noble stature and manly to behold,
And an honour to his country be it told.
It was not long before every Arab in the square was killed.
And with a dense smoke and dust the air was filled;
General Stewart's horse was shot, and he fell to the ground.
In the midst of shot and shell on every side around.
And when the victory was won they gave three British cheers.
While adown their cheeks flowed many tears
For their fallen comrades that lay weltering in their gore;
Then the square was re-formed, and the battle was o'er.
poem by William Topaz McGonagall
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The Boy Patriot
I want to be a Soldier!--
A Soldier!--
A Soldier!--
I want to be a Soldier, with a sabre in my hand
Or a little carbine rifle, or a musket on my shoulder,
Or just a snare-drum, snarling in the middle of the band;
I want to hear, high overhead, The Old Flag flap her wings
While all the Army, following, in chorus cheers and sings;
I want to hear the tramp and jar
Of patriots a million,
As gayly dancing off to war
As dancing a cotillion.
_I want to be a Soldier!_--
_A Soldier!_--
_A Soldier!_--
_I want to be a Soldier, with a sabre in my hand_
_Or a little carbine rifle, or a musket on my shoulder_,
_Or just a snare-drum, snarling in the middle of the band_.
I want to see the battle!--
The battle!--
The battle!--
I want to see the battle, and be in it to the end;--
I want to hear the cannon clear their throats and catch the prattle
Of all the pretty compliments the enemy can send!--
And then I know my wits will go,--and where I _should'nt_ be--
Well, there's the spot, in any fight, that you may search for me.
So, when our foes have had their fill,
Though I'm among the dying,
To see The Old Flag flying still,
I'll laugh to leave her flying!
_I want to be a Soldier!_--
_A Soldier!_--
_A Soldier!_--
_I want to be a Soldier, with a sabre in my hand_
_Or a little carbine rifle, or a musket on my shoulder_,
_Or just a snare-drum, snarling in the middle of the band_.
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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Lonely Soldier And An Enemy
The soldier cleaned his gun in anticipation
for the battle he would be fighting. His mind
was focused on his job. His heart was centred
on his illusions. Lonely soldier in a uniform
without a mind of his own. His officers
received their orders from somewhere else,
from men and women who were fighting a
war of greed. Death was nothing more then
a statistic which would be tabulated and
toned down for the media. Not good to let
the world know the actual cost of human
life in the adventure. A tear fell from his
eyes at the thought of how many men he
had killed. He remembered sitting in his kitchen
talking to his wife and making plans for
the future. That was until somebody
somewhere far away had determined
the future was not his to plan. So he worked
at his task in mind of constant wonder at
the waste he was trained to create. His
entire purpose in life was to kill and so he
killed as best he could. The faces of the
enemy reminded him of himself. Other men
who had sat at home with their wives talking
about their futures together. Such a waste of
young ambition by the old men and women who
sat comfortable in the governments of life.
Lonely soldier surrounded by his comrades
all of whom equally trained to hate and kill.
Ah, but the bands would play and the magic
of hero dust would fall upon the shoulders
of the men at arms. How brave they would
be in the battle with their blood splattered
all over their clean uniforms. The solider knew
he fought for a cause but it was odd that
the cause was never quite explained, save
for speeches on freedom and destruction
and illusions of happiness when the enemy
were all dead. Lonely soldier was startled by
an enemy as he cleaned his gun. The two
men glared at one another wondering who
would die first. Soldier and enemy came to
a major decision. Each stripped off their clothes
and stood naked in front of one another.
Two naked men. Without their uniforms.
Now which of them was the enemy?
poem by Chris G. Vaillancourt
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The Hero of Rorke's Drift
Twas at the camp of Rorke's Drift, and at tea-time,
And busily engaged in culinary operations was a private of the line;
But suddenly he paused, for he heard a clattering din,
When instantly two men on horseback drew rein beside him.
"News from the front!" said one, "Awful news!" said the other,
"Of which, we are afraid, will put us to great bother,
For the black Zulus are coming, and for our blood doth thirst,"
"And the force is cut up to pieces!" shouted the first.
"We're dead beat," said both, "but we've got to go on,"
And on they rode both, looking very woebegone;
Then Henry Hook put all thought of cooking out of his mind,
For he was surrounded with danger on every side he did find.
He was a private of the South Wales Borderers, Henry Hook,
Also a brave soldier, and an hospital cook;
A soldier of the Queen, who was always ready to obey,
And willing to serve God by night and day.
Then away to the Camp he ran, with his mind all in a shiver,
Shouting, "The force is cut up, sir, on the other side of the river!"
Which caused the officer in command with fear to quiver,
When Henry Hook the news to him did deliver.
Then Henry Hook saluted, and immediately retired,
And with courage undaunted his soul was fired,
And the cry rang out wildly, "The Zulus are coming!"
Then the alarm drums were instantly set a-drumming.
Then "Fall in! Fall in!" the commanders did cry,
And the men mustered out, ready to do and to die,
As British soldiers are always ready to do,
But, alas, on this occasion their numbers were but few.
They were only eighty in number, that brave British band,
And brave Lieutenant Broomhead did them command;
He gave orders to erect barricades without delay,
"It's the only plan I can see, men, to drive four thousand savages away."
Then the mealie bags and biscuit boxes were brought out,
And the breastwork was made quickly without fear or doubt,
And barely was it finished when some one cried in dismay,
"There's the Zulus coming just about twelve hundred yards away."
Methinks I see the noble hero, Henry Hook,
Because like a destroying angel he did look,
As he stood at the hospital entrance defending the patients there,
Bayoneting the Zulus, while their cries rent the air,
As they strove hard the hospital to enter in,
But he murdered them in scores, and thought it no sin.
In one of the hospital rooms was stationed Henry Hook,
And every inch a hero he did look,
Standing at his loophole he watched the Zulus come,
All shouting, and yelling, and at a quick run.
On they came, a countless host of savages with a rush,
But the gallant little band soon did their courage crush,
But the cool man Henry Hook at his post began to fire,
And in a short time those maddened brutes were forced to retire.
Still on came the savages into the barricade,
And still they were driven back, but undismayed.
Again they came into the barricade, yet they were driven back,
While darkness fell swift across the sun, dismal and black.
Then into the hospital the savages forced their way,
And in a moment they set fire to it without dismay,
Then Henry Hook flew" to assist the patients in the ward,
And the fighting there was fearful and hard.
With yell and shriek the Zulus rushed to the attack,
But for the sixth time they were driven back
By the brave British band, and Henry Hook,
Who was a brave soldier, surgeon, and hospital cook.
And when Lord Chelmsford heard of the victory that day,
He sent for Henry Hook without delay,
And they took the private before the commander,
And with his braces down, and without his coat, in battle array grandeur.
Then Lord Chelmsford said, "Henry Hook, give me your hand,
For your conduct to day has been hereoic and grand,
And without your assistance to-day we'd been at a loss,
And for your heroic behaviour you shall receive the Victoria Cross."
poem by William Topaz McGonagall
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A Tribute to Henry M. Stanley
Welcome, thrice welcome, to the city of Dundee,
The great African explorer Henry M Stanley,
Who went out to Africa its wild regions to explore,
And travelled o'er wild and lonely deserts, fatigued and footsore.
And what he and his little band suffered will never be forgot,
Especially one in particular, Major Edmund Barttelot,
Alas! the brave heroic Officer by a savage was shot,
The commandant of the rear column - O hard has been his lot!
O think of the noble Stanley and his gallant little band,
While travelling through gloomy forests and devastated land,
And suffering from all kinds of hardships under a burning sun!
But the brave hero has been successful and the victory's won.
While in Africa he saw many wonderful sights,
And was engaged, no doubt, in many savage fights,
But the wise Creator was with him all along
And now he's home again to us, I hope quite strong.
And during his travels in Africa he made strange discoveries,
He discovered a dwarfish race of people called pigmies,
Who are said to be the original natives of Africa,
And when Stanley discovered them he was struck with awe.
One event in particular is most worthy to relate,
How God preserved him from a very cruel fate:
He and his Officers were attacked, while sailing their boat,
By the savages of Bumbireh, all eager to cut his throat.
They seized him by the hair and tugged it without fear,
While one of his men received a poke in the ribs with a spear;
But Stanley, having presence of mind, instantly contrives
To cry to his men, Shove off the boat, and save your lives!
Then savages swarmed into three canoes very close by,
And every bow was drawn, while they savagely did cry;
But thee heroic Stanley quickly shot two of them dead,
Then the savages were baffled and immediately fled.
This incident is startling, but nevertheless true,
And in midst of all dangers the Lord brought him through
Then, welcome him,. thrice welcome him, right cheerfully,
Shouting, Long live the great African explorer, Henry M Stanley!
Therefore throw open the gates of the city of Dundee,
And receive him with loud cheers, three time three,
And sound your trumpets and beat your drums,
And play up, See the Conquering Hero Comes!
poem by William Topaz McGonagall
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Surprise attack
The enemy can be easily way laid in night
When they are relaxing after the fierce fight?
They won’t have slight inkling about surprise move
They may not have slight chance for superiority to prove
The olden battles waged by kings provide sufficient skill
How the war can be won and force the enemy to flee or killed?
How best the weaknesses can be exploited to full advantage?
And the best and powerful armies of the world can be managed
The ground is surveyed before the start of war
The enemy supply lines are too probed very far
The cut of supply route can bring any army to knee
They may loose the clear advantage of fighting free
The rulers never wanted any competion
They were guided by the superstitions
No one should challenge their authority
They must have complete superiority
The kings were sole authority in the field
They had lots of influence and enormous power to yield
They were benevolent and provided good shield
They had high standing in public eye and respect too held
The war norms were observed and not violated
At down it was bringing all the hostilities to an end
The armies would retire to tents and prepare for next day
Still the foul games were never ruled out in any way
I have vivid remembrance of one such incident
The army was annihilated and defeat was evident
The retired generals thought to make surprise attack
They had nothing to loose but everything at stake
As they entered retiring tents in barracks
They found it opportune for surprise attack
They moved at ease and killed many generals
The little carelessness proved fatal for veterans
It is known reaction with the advent of next sun rise
The whole filed will be witnessed by sudden demise
Lot many able generals might have lost their life
It was not moral war but worn torn strife
The time has changed but not the tactics
The time and against it has been proved by statistics
The powerful armies are routed by small army
The theories and proofs are provided by many
Who ever strikes first can with the half war?
Enemy may not be able to go and cut very far
It will be seen as their graveyard or coffin
They have to flee the ground instead witnessing the win
* The surprise attack is powerful weapon in any war”
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Rest In Peace! (for fun poem)
Rest in Peace!
its a joke? ? ? Who knows?
I know, with all my diggings!
Dead for thousands times
and no one single rest
So well buried but not finally dead
Sorry if i disappointed!
this time with a bouquet of black flowers
To put on your perfect grave!
Rest in peace!
ha, ha, ha
poem by Mirna Morgan
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The Soldier’s Death
The day was o’er, and in their tent the weaned victors met,
In wine and social gaiety the carnage to forget.
The merry laugh and sparkling jest, the pleasant tale were there—
Each heart was free and gladsome then, each brow devoid of care.
Yet one was absent from the board who ever was the first
In every joyous, festive scene, in every mirthful burst;
He also was the first to dare each perilous command,
To rush on danger—yet was he the youngest of the band.
Upon the battle-field he lay a damp and fearful grave;
His right hand grasped the cherished flag—the flag he died to save;
While the cold stars shone calmly down on heaps of fallen dead,
And their pale light a halo cast round that fair sleeper’s head.
Say, was there none o’er that young chief to shed one single tear,
To sorrow o’er the end of his untimely stopt career?
Yes, but alas! the boundless sea its foam and crested wave,
Lay then between those beings dear and his cold, cheerless grave.
With all a mother’s doting love a mother yearned for him,
And watching for his quick return, a sister’s eye grew dim,
And, dearer still, a gentle girl, his fair affianced bride,—
And yet, with all these loving ones, unfriended, had he died.
No woman’s low, sweet voice was near one soothing word to say
Or gentle hand from his cold brow to wipe the damps away;
But yet why should we grieve for him, that hero gallant, brave?
His was a soldier’s glorious death, a soldier’s glorious grave!
poem by Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Slight Doubt
I couldn’t dream of hurting her modesty
Had not even slight doubt about her honesty
I was feeling good not out of pity
It was her wish to live in peace with amity
Many times she disclosed she was for relation
I was feeling high with joy and elation
I could not differentiate or make equation
To harm her or molest was out of question
Nights were cold deep and freezing
Sudden urge from within for opportunity seizing
Barren surroundings making me so dry and lonely
Thought of making her secure and homely
She may come right and straight without alarm
Recoiling like snake around chest and arm
Though not thinking of any fear or distance
Not a bad thought occurred in mind even for once
This is how she has come to rule and sway
Frustration and unhappiness may be miles away
I have new hope and bright sun shine with golden ray
I may dance to her tune with whatever she says
She occupies mind and full screen
I may not enthusiastic or very keen
It reflects on every movement
Makes me to feel great with glorious moments
She might be occupying pivotal position
My love may be ordinary or in transition
Sky may have big stars and bright moon
Ordinary star’s dream may be realized soon
I may not be able to hold her with firm grip
She may disappear. Go out of hand and slip
Well, I shall watch from distance her glory
Pray almighty not to end it with simple sorry
I may have very little offer
You may not fall for it and differ
Still I shall distantly show and remain in fray
Inviting with open arm to go away or stay
Is it not that love demands some graceful act?
We may deny it as matter of fact
Will it be proper to hide and seek?
Will it not be a sign of coward or weak?
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Springtime In New England
The pleasant, subtle sounds of Spring, awaken you;
The madrigal of birds, the unmistakeable sway of a slight zephyr,
May combine, to ensure that you are taken to
Thought of a brand-new start, as answer
To ponderance for need of a glorious renewal;
You need look no further, the change is done.
It is evidence in the resplendent vernal jewel,
As we bask in the glory that is the early morning Sun!
The splendiferous scent of fresh-cut grass, fills the air;
Long-dormant golf swings, seek slight repair;
What was once stark and white, is now lush and green;
Flowers, in a range of bloom, set the scene;
This is springtime in New England, so beautiful, so true-
That is, in my eyes anyway-how about you! ?
poem by Maurice Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Only A Slight Flirtation
‘Twas just a slight flirtation,
And where’s the harm, I pray,
In that amusing pastime
So much in vogue to-day?
Her hand was plighted elsewhere
To one she held most dear,
But why should she sit lonely
When other men are near?
They walked to church together,
They sat upon the shore.
She found him entertaining,
He found her something more.
They rambled in the moonlight;
It made her look so fair,
She let him praise her beauty,
And kiss her flowing hair.
‘Twas just a nice flirtation.
So sad the fellow died.
Was drowned one day while boating,
The week she was a bride.’
A life went out in darkness,
A mother’s fond heart broke,
A maiden pined in secret –
With grief she never spoke.
While robed in bridal whiteness,
Queen of a festal throng,
She moved, whose slight flirtation
Had wrought this triple wrong.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The scene was not a happy one yet we looked upon it in the cold stoical spirit of a soldier; a slight chilling pang and then a return soul and body to the enemy before us.
quote by Knute Nelson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A rush to find
I rushed to see here there
My eyes were in search of her and very eager
She was not to be seen anywhere
I thought very badly of her
She must have made presence
Why did she not appear once?
It was her call for something
II could think of nothing
It was never ending wait
I was getting late
I never used to hate
I may not be able to think or state
It is anxiety that rules the mind
You are not in position to find
It can be deliberate attempt to make you fool
You got to accept it very cool
There might be compelling situation
Her sincerity was not in doubt and out of question
The things can move in either direction
I loved her so much for the delay in action
I looked in different direction to retrace the steps
I did not consider it insult or slap
We are all slaves of the circumstances
You can quote many such instances
How will you know the deep impact?
It may make you angry or force you to react
It is natural outburst and likely to follow
Don’t curse but simply allow
Love the love as much as of your self
The anger may go off or melt
The loneliness may definitely be felt
The fragrance of love is surely smelt
Take it lightly even if they occur
There is no point in even slight murmur
I is part of life and may take place
It is nice to wait in game or race
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Unrest in the Kingdom of London Dairy? (Sung God Save the Queen or My Country tis of Thee)
The real verses The parody
God save our gracious Queen God save our Dairy Queen
Long live our noble Queen, No fancy shakes to be seen,
God save the Queen: God save the Queen
Send her victorious, Ice cream floats and fries,
Happy and glorious, Cheeseburgers you should try
Long to reign over us: Blizzards and Malts oh my
God save the Queen. God save the Queen
O Lord, our God, arise, DQ cakes, what’s at stake,
Scatter thine enemies, Chili dogs, Strawberry Cheesequakes
And make them fall: And make a small dipped cone
Confound their politics, Blizzards as Snickers or Oreos
Frustrate their knavish tricks, Chocolate Cookie Dough
On thee our hopes we fix: Let’s have cappuccino
God save us all. God we haven’t grown
Thy choicest gifts in store, Your choicest treats in store
On her be pleased to pour; You can’t each much more
Long may she reign: Our tables are clean
May she defend our laws, Sundaes you can get any day
And ever give us cause Brownie earthquakes if you pay
To sing with heart and voice And some Peanut Butter Parfaits
God save the Queen. God save the Queen
(2-29-2008)
poem by Joe Rosochacki
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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