Men of Australia
Men of all the lands Australian from the Gulf to Derwent River,
From the Heads of Sydney Harbour to the waters of the West,
There’s a spirit loudly calling where the saplings dip and quiver,
Where the city crowds are thronging, and the range uplifts its crest!
Do ye feel the holy fervour of a new-born exultation?
For the task the Lord has set us is a trust of noblest pride—
We are named to march unblooded to the winning of a nation,
And to crown her with a glory that may evermore abide.
Have ye looked to great old nations, have ye wondered at their making,
Seen their fair and gracious cities, gemmed with palaces of light,
Felt the pulse of mighty engines beating ever, never slaking,
Like the sandalled feet of Progress moving onward in the night?
Can ye stand on some high headland when the drowsy day is fading,
And in dreamlike fancy see a merchant fleet upon the seas,
See the pinioned ships majestic ’gainst the purple even sailing
And the busy steamers racing down to half a thousand quays?
Have ye dreamed of this or seen of this, and feel ye no elation
O’er the most heroic duty that a free-born people knows?
To the chain of kindred nations ours to link another nation,
Ours to stay and build and bless her for a future great as those!
Cold and sordid hearts may linger still to bargain over trifles,
But the big-souled men have only hate for huckstering and sloth;
These would batter down division, tear away the bonds that stifle,
And would free our dear Australia for the larger, nobler growth.
Bushmen, roaming on the ridges, tracking “colours” to their sources,
Swinging axes by the rivers where the millsaws rend and shriek
Smoking thoughtful pipes, or dreaming on your slow, untroubled horses,
While the lazy cattle feed along the track or ford the creek,
Ye have known our country’s moods in all her wild and desert places,
Ye have felt the sweet, strange promptings that her solitudes inspire;
To have breathed the spirit of her is to love her—turn your faces,
Ride like lovers when the day dawns, ride to serve her, son and sire!
Miners in the dripping workings, farmers, pioneers who settle
On the bush lands, city workers of the benches and the marts,
Swart mechanics at the forges, beating out the glowing metal,
Thinkers, planners, if ye feel the love of country stir your hearts,
Help to write the bravest chapter of a fair young nation’s story
Great she’ll be as Europe’s greatest, more magnificent in truth!
That our children’s children standing in the rose light of her glory
May all honour us who loved her, and who crowned her in her youth!
poem by Edward George Dyson
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Wentworth
'Tis a new thing for Australia that the waters to her bear
One who seeks not strength of sunshine, or the breath of healing air;
One who reeks not of her riches, nor remembers she is fair;
One who land and houses, henceforth, holdeth not, for evermore;
Coming for such narrow dwelling as the dead need, to the shore
Named aforetime by the spirit to receive the garb it wore.
'Tis a strange thing for Australia that her name should be the name
Breathed ere death by one who loved her, claiming, with a patriot's claim,
Earth of her as chosen grave-place; rather than the lands of fame;
Rather than the Sacred City where a sepulchre was sought
For the noblest hearts of Europe; rather than the Country fraught
With the incense of the altars whence our household gods were brought.
'Tis a proud thing for Australia, while the funeral-prayers are said,
To remember loving service, frankly rendered by the dead;
How he strove, amid the nations, evermore to raise her head.
How in youth he sang her glory, as it is, and is to be,
Called her “Empress,” while they held her yet as base-born, over sea,
Owned her “Mother,” when her children scarce were counted with the free!
How he claimed of King and Commons that his birthland should be used
As a daughter not an alien; till the boon, so oft refused,
Was withheld, at last, no longer; and the former bonds were loosed.
How the scars of serfdom faded. How he led within the light
Of her fireside Earth's Immortals; chrism-touched from Olympus' height;
Whom gods loved; for whom the New Faith, too, has guest-rooms garnished bright.
'Tis a great thing for Australia; that her child of early years,
Shared her path of desert-travel, bread of sorrow, drink of tears,
Holding by her to these hill-tops, whence her Promised Place appears.
Titles were not hers to offer as the meed of service done;
Rank of peer or badge of knighthood, star or ribbon, she had none;
But she breathes a mother's blessing o'er the ashes of her son.
poem by Mary Hannay Foott
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Foreign Lands
You may roam the wide seas over, follow, meet, and cross the sun,
Sail as far as ships can sail, and travel far as trains can run;
You may ride and tramp wherever range or plain or sea expands,
But the crowd has been before you, and you’ll not find ‘Foreign Lands;’
For the Early Days are over,
And no more the white-winged rover
Sinks the gale-worn coast of England bound for bays in Foreign Lands.
Foreign Lands are in the distance dim and dreamlike, faint and far,
Long ago, and over yonder, where our boyhood fancies are,
For the land is by the railway cramped as though with iron bands,
And the steamship and the cable did away with Foreign Lands.
Ah! the days of blue and gold!
When the news was six months old—
But the news was worth the telling in the days of Foreign Lands.
Here we slave the dull years hopeless for the sake of Wool and Wheat
Here the homes of ugly Commerce—niggard farm and haggard street;
Yet our mothers and our fathers won the life the heart demands—
Less than fifty years gone over, we were born in Foreign Lands.
When the gipsies stole the children still, in village tale and song,
And the world was wide to travel, and the roving spirit strong;
When they dreamed of South Sea Islands, summer seas and coral strands—
Then the bravest hearts of England sailed away to Foreign Lands,
‘Fitting foreign’—flood and field—
Half the world and orders sealed—
And the first and best of Europe went to fight in Foreign Lands.
Canvas towers on the ocean—homeward bound and outward bound—
Glint of topsails over islands—splash of anchors in the sound;
Then they landed in the forests, took their strong lives in their hands,
And they fought and toiled and conquered—making homes in Foreign Lands,
Through the cold and through the drought—
Further on and further out—
Winning half the world for England in the wilds of Foreign Lands.
Love and pride of life inspired them when the simple village hearts
Followed Master Will and Harry—gone abroad to ‘furrin parts’
By our townships and our cities, and across the desert sands
Are the graves of those who fought and died for us in Foreign Lands—
Gave their young lives for our sake
(Was it all a grand mistake?)
Sons of Master Will and Harry born abroad in Foreign Lands!
Ah, my girl, our lives are narrow, and in sordid days like these,
I can hate the things that banished ‘Foreign Lands across the seas,’
But with all the world before us, God above us—hearts and hands,
I can sail the seas in fancy far away to Foreign Lands.
poem by Henry Lawson
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The Song of Australia
The centuries found me to nations unknown –
My people have crowned me and made me a throne;
My royal regalia is love, truth, and light –
A girl called Australia – I've come to my right.
Though no fields of conquest grew red at my birth,
My dead were the noblest and bravest on earth;
Their strong sons are worthy to stand with the best –
My brave Overlanders ride west of the west.
My cities are seeking the clean and the right;
My Statesmen are speaking in London to-night;
The voice of my Bushmen is heard oversea;
My army and navy are coming to me.
By all my grim headlands my flag is unfurled,
My artists and singers are charming the world;
The White world shall know its young outpost with pride;
The fame of my poets goes ever more wide.
By old tow'r and steeple of nation grown grey
The name of my people is spreading to-day;
Through all the old nations my learners go forth;
My youthful inventors are startling the north.
In spite of all Asia, and safe from her yet,
Through wide Australasia my standards I'll set;
A grand world and bright world to rise in an hour –
The Wings of the White world, the Balance of Power.
Through storm, or serenely – whate'er I go through –
God grant I be queenly! God grant I be true!
To suffer in silence, and strike at a sign,
Till all the fair islands of these seas are mine.
poem by Henry Lawson
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A Story
(For the Irish Delegates in Australia)
DO you want to hear a story,
With a nobler praise than 'glory,'
Of a man who loved the right like heaven and loathed the wrong like
hell?
Then, that story let me tell you
Once again, though it as well you
Know as I — the splendid story of the man they call Parnell!
By the wayside of the nations,
Lashed with whips and execrations,
Helpless, hopeless, bleeding, dying, she, the Maiden Nation, lay;
And the burthen of dishonour
Weighed so grievously upon her
That her very children hid their eyes and crept in shame away.
And there as she was lying
Helpless, hopeless, bleeding, dying,
All her high-born foes came round her, fleering, jeering, as they said:
'What is freedom fought and won for?
She is down! She's dead and done for!'
And her weeping children shuddered as they crouched and whispered:
'Dead!'
Then suddenly up-starting,
All that throng before him parting,
See, a Man with firm step breaking through you central knot that gives;
And, as by some dear lost sister,
He knelt down, and softly kissed her,
And he raised his pale, proud face, and cried: 'She is not dead. She lives!
'O she lives, I say, and I here,
I am come to fight and die here
For the love my heart has for her like a slow consuming fire;
For the love of her low-lying,
For the hatred deep, undying
Of the robber lords who struck and stabbed and trod her in the mire!'
Then upon that cry bewildering,
Some of them, her hapless children —
In their hearts there leaped up hope like light when night gives birth to
day;
And, as mocks and threats defied him,
One by one they came beside him,
Till they stood, a band of heroes, sombre, desperate, at bay!
And the battle that they fought there,
And the bitter truth they taught there
To the blinded Sister-Nation suffering grievously alway,
All the wrong and rapine past hers,
Of her lords and her task-masters,
Is not this the larger hope of all as night gives birth to day?
For the lords and liars are quaking
At the People's stern awaking
From their slumber of the ages; and the Peoples slowly rise,
And with hands locked tight together,
One in heart and soul for ever,
Watch the sun of Light and Liberty leap up into the skies!
That's the story, that's the story
With a nobler praise than 'glory,'
Of the Man who loved the right like heaven and loathed the wrong like
hell,
And with calm, proud exultation
Bade her stand at last a nation,
Ireland, Ireland that is one name with the name of Charles Parnell!
poem by Francis William Lauderdale Adams
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The Federal City
OH! the folly, the waste, and the pity! Oh, the time that is flung behind!
They are seeking a site for a city, whose eyes shall be always blind,
Whose love for their ease grows greater, and whose care for their country less—
They are seeking a site for a city—a City of Selfishness.
In ignorance, deafness, blindness, in the cities by the sea,
With waste of time and of money, and with local jealousy;
With Anti-Federal envy, and personal paltriness,
They are seeking a site for a city—while Australia moans in distress.
By the coast with the people crowding, where Australia’s danger lies,
By the hills and the clear, cool rivers, and under the softer skies,
Where the fat shall not melt, and the ranter grow cool in the fresh’ning breeze,
And the dwellers drivel in comfort and the boodlers swindle at ease.
They are seeking a site for a city in the beauty spots of the land,
While I see so plainly, my children, where the Federal towers should stand!
Where the heart of Australia beats strongest and highest in desert air.
Make a site for a Federal City, and build you your capital there!
Where the crowd should be drawn from the coast line to the great bush that cradled the race,
Where the bush might be armed and directed should the seaboard be lost for a space;
Where the waste should be watered and gardened, in the drought-land of Never Despair,
There build you your Federal City, and make you a paradise there.
It shall be a world-wide object-lesson; it shall stand while a bushman is true,
And I tell you the bushmen will build it to show what a nation can do;
And there shall Australia sit queenly, and there shall her children be schooled,
For, I say, from the heart of Australia shall the whole of Australia be ruled.
poem by Henry Lawson
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The Year's End
THE voices of the wind and wave
They sigh the Old Year's requiem;
The dead are calling from the grave —
Good friends, a little space I crave
To turn aside and think of them.
They were as even you and I
When you and I were young as they;
And yet they knew the way to die —
Come, think with me, and tell me why
It should be thus with hearts so gay.
Ah, blessed be the gracious God
Who, moulding us from clay and dew,
From morning dew and clay untrod,
So breathed Himself into the sod
That we, at best, grow Godlike, too.
For, treading pleasure underneath,
These glory-souls, our country's flower,
Arose responsive to that breath
And looked into the face of Death,
And did not tremble at his power.
Should it not make us sure and tough
As tested steel, and unafraid,
To feel, though Fate ride robber-rough,
That we are fashioned of the stuff
Whereof these heroes, too, were made?
Though they are dead, and o'er them bends
A people's soul in mourning mood,
Proud Honour at their grave attends:
Henceforth we are a nation, friends,
By right of sacrificial blood.
The care-free days of youth are gone;
What once we were no more we are;
And dead are all the dreams that shone
Ere we were bruised and hammered on
The ringing anvils of red war.
The Spirit of Immortal Times,
With lights that dazzle and entice,
Is vitalizing all earth's climes;
Once more in golden tones it chimes
The anthem of High Sacrifice.
And yet, though Fame be very fair,
And great the yearning and desire
Of hero-hearts to do and dare,
Behold, there stands an empty chair
Beside a cold and ashen fire!
Because, as even you and I,
They loved and were beloved, my friends,
Not all the glory-stars on high,
The splendid things for which men die,
Can for their passing make amends.
There is a house that waits in vain
To give them entrance at its door,
When frost's afoot or chilly rain;
There is a track across the plain
That they, alas, shall ride no more.
A whip, a saddle, and a spur!
(Ah, love-lit rides! The moon above,
Sweet scents around, soft winds astir!)
God give him rest! And what of her?
Why ask? Is love not always love?
Dear eyes that pain has made divine,
Sad eyes that burn with tears unshed,
Within whose depths are griefs that pine
And pilgrim thoughts that seek the shrine,
The grave of their beloved dead;
Dear eyes, dear hearts, dear folk, tear-blind,
Who greet each morn with grief anew,
Pale cheeks grown cold, and foreheads lined, —
Since God is good and Heaven is kind,
There shall be recompense for you!
The Old Year dies; and o'er the waves,
Wind-borne, there comes a requiem
Deep-chanted by a sea that laves
The shores they loved. Oh, may their graves
Give goodly rest and peace to them!
poem by Roderic Quinn
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We're All Australians Now
Australia takes her pen in hand
To write a line to you,
To let you fellows understand
How proud we are of you.
From shearing shed and cattle run,
From Broome to Hobson's Bay,
Each native-born Australian son
Stands straighter up today.
The man who used to 'hump his drum',
On far-out Queensland runs
Is fighting side by side with some
Tasmanian farmer's sons.
The fisher-boys dropped sail and oar
To grimly stand the test,
Along that storm-swept Turkish shore,
With miners from the west.
The old state jealousies of yore
Are dead as Pharaoh's sow,
We're not State children any more,
We're all Australians now!
Our six-starred flag that used to fly
Half-shyly to the breeze,
Unknown where older nations ply
Their trade on foreign seas,
Flies out to meet the morning blue
With Vict'ry at the prow;
For that's the flag the Sydney flew,
The wide seas know it now!
The mettle that a race can show
Is proved with shot and steel,
And now we know what nations know
And feel what nations feel.
The honoured graves beneath the crest
Of Gaba Tepe hill
May hold our bravest and our best,
But we have brave men still.
With all our petty quarrels done,
Dissensions overthrown,
We have, through what you boys have done,
A history of our own.
Our old world diff'rences are dead,
Like weeds beneath the plough,
For English, Scotch, and Irish-bred,
They're all Australians now!
So now we'll toast the Third Brigade
That led Australia's van,
For never shall their glory fade
In minds Australian.
Fight on, fight on, unflinchingly,
Till right and justice reign.
Fight on, fight on, till Victory
Shall send you home again.
And with Australia's flag shall fly
A spray of wattle-bough
To symbolise our unity,
We're all Australians now.
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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True Liberty
The day in which one celebrates, Independence of a union of states,
Independence from powers outside; freedom that was once denied,
The freest nation in this world, a point that others sometimes herald,
Causing many who are weary in heart, to come here for a fresh start.
A day of real joyous celebration, all across this now powerful nation,
As our voices together are raised, with full hearts a nation is praised,
Festive fireworks are always planned, in many cities across this land,
Celebrating what many of us see, as the greatest nation in all history.
Liberty we celebrate by proclamation, extends to all within this nation,
However that liberty extends only, to the borders of this dear country,
Beyond the borders and the sea, the nation’s people may not be free,
When many travel to other lands, freedoms turn into other’s demands.
Demands which turn into bondage, leaving this land of great privilege,
Privileges that others only dream of, as they look to this land we love,
A land that is so blessed by God, many agree, on this day with a nod,
But, forgetting Him most of the year; living so privileged, without fear.
There’s a freedom many don’t know, as their freedoms for them grow,
Liberty, from the bondage of sin, that captivates our land from within,
That freedom which we celebrate, doesn’t free men from Satan’s hate,
As the Devil leads a war against God, all across this land that we trod.
Freedom from such an evil foe, comes only when the Savior we know,
Who left all the Glory of Eternity, coming to earth to set captives free,
The only true freedom on this earth, comes to man, by a spiritual birth,
Through the Liberty in Jesus Christ, when in Him they receive New Life.
(Copyright ©07/2008)
Sing Austrailia
I come to Australia as many people do, to see the old koala, hitch a ride on a kangaroo.
To hear somebody call me "Mate" and call somebody "Blue,"
to hear an Aborigine play a didgeridoo.
Some of you came as prisoners two centuries ago,
some of you come as kings and queens your blessing to bestow.
Some of you stand all swelled with pride, some with shattered wings,
but all of us come with open hearts to hear Australia sing.
In the desert, in the city, in the mountains and in the sea.
In the stories and in the people I can hear Australia sing.
Waltzing Matilda, the men of Gallipoli, Clancy of the Overflow and Crocodile Dundee.
The myth of all creation, the teaching of Baiame, the legends of the Dreamtime for all eternity.
And in this celebration, a brief two hundred years,
the cost to build a nation in blood and sweat and tears.
And if we stand divided, divided we shall fall. But if we stand together, we shall conquer all.
In the desert, in the city, in the mountains and in the sea.
In the stories and in the people I can hear Australia sing..
Sing Australia, sing Australia, sing Australia, sing Australia.
In the sails on Sydney Harbour I can hear Australia sing.
song performed by by John Denver
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Alaska & Me
This song appears on three albums, and was first released on the higher ground album, and has also been released on the gift you are and the john denver collection - calypso albums.
When I was a child and I lived in the city
I dreamed of alaska so far away
And I dreamed I was flying over mountains and glaciers
Somehow I knew Id live there one day
Well it took me some growin, and a fair bit of schoolin
And a little bit of trouble to get on the move
And I felt like a loser but I turned out the winner
When I came to alaska the land that I love
Heres to alaska, heres to the people
Heres to the wild and heres to the free
Heres to my life in a chosen country
Heres to alaska and me
I was born in a cabin on little mulchatna
Raised in hard times but I had a good life
From the first time I flew with my father a singin
I knew that Id wind up a bush pilots wife
We sleep near the sound of a slow running river
And wake up most mornings to a drizzling rain
And we face every day like the first or the last one
With nothin to lose and heaven to gain
Heres to alaska, heres to the people
Heres to the wild and heres to the free
Heres to my life in a chosen country
Heres to alaska and me
Oh, for the fire on a cold winters night
And once more to gaze at the great northern lights
For all of the beauty my children will see
Heres to alaska and me
Heres to alaska, heres to the people
Heres to the wild and heres to the free
Heres to my life in a chosen country
Heres to alaska and me
Words and music by john denver
song performed by by John Denver
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Wide Lies Australia
Wide lies Australia! The seas that surround her
Flow for her unity – all states in one.
Never has Custom nor Tyranny bound her –
Never was conquest so peacefully won.
Fair lies Australia! with all things within her
Meet for a Nation, the greatest to be:
Free to the White Man to woo and to win her:
Those who'd be happy and those who'd be free.
Free to live fully and free to live cleanly,
Free to give learning to daughter and son;
Free to act nobly but not to act meanly,
Free to forget what the old lands had done.
Free to be Brothers! Our hymn and our sermon
To keep for the White World the balance of Power,
Welcoming all, be they British or German,
All come to help us – we'll wait for the hour.
Out in the West where the flood-water gathers –
Out in the drought on the sand desert lone –
Went the brave English and brave foreign fathers
Fearlessly facing the fearful unknown.
Gemmed with their names lies the great past behind us.
Dark lie the storm clouds before us today,
Let us so live the future shall find us
Facing the danger as dauntless as they.
poem by Henry Lawson
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a new Gandhihood
You gave us a simple man, full of kindness
humblest and with godly bless
not a lord
owning his own soul like power
you like us, we poorest of poor
the real Indians..........
we like you Bapu, you only know us....
(they not know us... we are really Indians..)
the father of poorest of poor
the light still delight us...Bapu.....
and then we have many 'gandhees'
but the Indira we loved her
a worthy heir of a ablest leader
Blooded to the battle
Born to for fight
Sowed the pride in our soul nation
Not to thrill of the fight
To die for a cause
Honour and the great glory
To win without a great life
lived for India.......
the great Rajiv...
the' new' India wants glory.....
he made a new vision for this nation
and Sonia the mother....
without a power
but all these great sacrificing.....
poem by Thampi KEE
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The Gandhihood....
You gave us a simple man, full of kindness
humblest and with godly bless
not a lord
owning his own soul like power
you like us, we poorest of poor
the real Indians..........
we like you Bapu, you only know us....
(they not know us... we are really Indians..)
the father of poorest of poor
the light still delight us...Bapu.....
and then we have many 'gandhees'
but the Indira we loved her
a worthy heir of a ablest leader
Blooded to the battle
Born to for fight
Sowed the pride in our soul nation
Not to thrill of the fight
To die for a cause
Honour and the great glory
To win without a great life
lived for India.......
the great Rajiv...
the' new' India wants glory.....
he made a new vision for this nation
and Sonia the mother....
without a power
but all these great sacrificing.....
poem by Thampi KEE
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Wild West Hero
Wish I was, yeah, a wild west hero.
Sometimes I look up high and then I think there might
Just be a better life.
Away from all we know, thats where I wanna go,
Out on the wild side
And I wish I was, o-oo-o-oh, a wild west hero.
Ride the range all the day till the first fading light,
Be with my western girl round the fire, oh, so bright.
Id be the indians friend, let them live to be free,
Ridin into the sunset, I wish I could be.
Id ride the desert sands and through the prairie lands,
Tryn to do whats right.
The folks would come to me, theyd say, we need you here.
Id stay there for the night.
Oh, I wish I was, o-oo-o-oh, a wild west hero.
Ride the range all the day till the first fading light,
Be with my western girl round the fire, oh, so bright.
Id be the indians friend, let them live to be free,
Ridin into the sunset, I wish I could be.
Oh, I wish I was, o-oo-o-oh, a wild west hero.
Oh, I wish I was, o-oo-o-oh, a wild west hero.
Oh, I wish I was, o-oo-o-oh, a wild west hero.
Oh, I wish I was, o-oo-o-oh, a wild west hero.
Wish I was, o-o-oo-o-o-o-oo, a wild west hero.
song performed by by Electric Light Orchestra
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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America s Strength (series #2)
As a youngster I began to wonder “ how this great nation came to be”.
People from all over the world looking for a new life to escape tyranny.
This became AMERICAS history.
Then we had our civil war and we fought as state to state.
We all became UNITED and that made this nation great.
So we put the two together and the UNITED STATES was formed.
Little did we know- that this would be the “ norm”.
Look around you, and you will see
Every ethnic group, that’s how we came to be.
AMERICA is not just a country, but a land
Where the bell of freedom rings
And from every country, its people it will bring.
AMERICA is a dream- a vision, a quest- if you must
But in this great nation we put all our trust.
So give us your humble, your poor, your weak
If freedom is what they seek.
This is what made this nation, and gave dreams to all mankind
For we will fight for this country, our lives we’ll put on the line.
We will get stronger, and you will weaken and die
For you can not break our spirit, no matter how you try.
“ now many will say I’m a dreamer”
But that’s how this world came to be
Every small dream has become a reality.
We wanted to hide the pictures and videos
From our children of what you had done.
Because we had felt that they was much to young.
Now we’ve decided to teach and show them about
This cowardly act, and to give them knowledge
And show them all the facts.
poem by Louis Rams
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That Great Waiting Silence
Where shall we go for prophecy? Where shall we go for proof?
The holiday street is crowded, pavement, window and roof;
Band and banner pass by us, and the old tunes rise and fall—
But that great waiting silence is on the people all!
Where is the cheering and laughter of the eight-hour days gone by?
When the holiday heart was careless, and the holiday spirit high—
The friendly jostling and banter, the wit and the jovial call?
But that great waiting silence is over the people all.
Oh! but my heart beats faster—and a gush that was nearly tears:
Clatter of hammers on iron! and Australian Engineers!
Goods from Australian workshops—proud to the world at last
(And I see, in a flash from the future, Australian guns go past).
The morning sun-glare, softened by a veil, like frosted glass—
There is no breath of a head-breeze as the Labour banners pass,
There seems no sign of a danger or a change for the workers now—
But for some great, new-born spirit the banners seem to bow.
Where shall we go for our platforms? Where shall we go, indeed?
Shall we follow the cackle of women that follow the jesting Reid,
Through indifferent-seeming cities—and the browned men straight and tall?
But that great waiting silence is on the people all.
Twist and tangle and mystify, bully, and weep and bluff;
Marry the truth to a glaring lie, and say it is good enough;
Boast of your vice and villainy—in your virtue rant and bawl—
But that great waiting silence is over the people all!
Brothers, who work with shovel or pen, labour by day and night:
Brothers, who think of the hearts of men, ponder and speak and write;
Work for Australia’s destiny, content till you hear the call,
For the spirit that builds a nation is over the people all.
poem by Henry Lawson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sing Australia
This song appears on four albums, and was first released on the higher ground album, and has also been released on the a portrait, the john denver collection - calypso and the gift you are album
I come to australia as many people do
To see the old koala, hitch a ride on a kangaroo
To hear somebody call me mate and call somebody blue
To hear the aboriginee play a didgeridoo
Some of you came as prisoners two centuries ago
Some of you come as kings and queens your blessing to bestow
Some of you stand all swelled with pride, some with shattered wings
But all of us come with open hearts to hear australia sing
In the desert, in the city
In the mountains and in the sea
In the stories and in the people
I can hear australia sing
Waltzing matilda, the men of galipoli
Clancy of the overflow, crocodile dundee
The myth of all creation, the teaching of baiame
The legends of a dreamtime for all eternity
And in this celebration of a brief two hundred years
The cost to build a nation in blood and sweat and tears
And if we stand divided, divided we will fall
But if we stand together we shall conquer all
In the desert, in the city
In the mountains and in the sea
In the stories and in the people
I can hear australia sing
Sing australia, sing australia, sing australia, sing australia
In the sails on sydney harbour
I can hear australia sing
Words and music by john denver
song performed by by John Denver
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Epidemics and Tsunamis
I don’t mind if some one calls me nationalist arrogant
When I find my nation has become sand witch between giants
She ahs been labeled as puppet regime and powerless
With what feelings of arrogance I should show on face?
I feel irritation and tease at hart when I am condemned
As individual nationalist of shamed country and damned
I love to be called proudly by nation first and then nationality
A nation to be remembered and proudly with capability
I would wish same for all the nations of the world
Not known by what powerful alliance they hold
Not humiliated by link to pay for as heavy price
Only strong nationalism must be the right choice
Let another millions die if they want division of motherland
Let good sense not prevail for protection of holy land
Yet it may not dilute my spirit towards nation
As it is identity and bound by sacred relation
How can one think of tying cord around people’s neck?
In our own country where poor die for food stake
We can afford food stuff to rot on road side
Still it can’t reach to hungry mouth country wide
We have enemies within and need go after terrorists
If not today they will be killed surely in forests
Who will kill these big sharks that attack freely?
Drive a wedge and kill one by one truly
Can any one put ceiling on their greed?
Still millions can be easily afforded to feed
I may find happy faces in the remote places
How can we make them feel better on the faces?
My house is still not in order
It gives bad smell and odor
My garden has different roses and flowers
Rain God is also blessing us with enough showers
Despite all, it makes me feel proud
I can speak in favor and very loud
House can be cleaned of external enemies
But how to tackle internal epidemics and Tsunamis
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Mabuhay Philippines!
Though my country is at its lowest
I firmly believe that it will ably pass the test
Though the nations will grope in financial needs
My country's resources its people will feed.
We have plenty of water and our seas produce fish
Our land grows everything and its womb is not selfish
We can make our food in all natural growth
We can harvest the best fruits the world ever sought
They say we are poor yet our malls are all selling
Our people have cellphones, the latest cars they're buying.
The investors are coming here, realty business is booming
Condominums fast rising and like mushrooms a-blooming.
We have pearls in our seas, we have gold in our mountains
Our silver is the best and its sources are a bargain
Our people are poor but they live life with great smiles
With dance, music, and song and prayer all the while
We survive those disasters because of our character
The 'Bayanihan' spirit- we look after each other
With all our workers spread throughout the world
We don't even need government, we manage well we are told.
Our heroes are many, too many to enumerate
From Paeng Nepomuceno, Manny Pacquiao to date,
To Lea Salonga and our Charize Pempengco
To Efren 'Bata' Reyes and the rest you all know.
There is now black propaganda against my dear country
Prejudice in foreign media laced in utter mediocrity
But the irony of it all is the evident truth
Like dominoes they are falling one by one they follow suit.
A nation's wealth is its people and its natural resources
Its land and its values, its direction, and its goodness.
God bless the Philippines and its people!
Copyright Cynthia Buhain Baello
March 11.2010
Philippines
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Progressively Worse
Said to have a progressive mind, as they leave all morals behind,
Going on with a new code of life, while immorality all about is rife,
Progressing with a liberal cause, with no thought or even a pause,
To what the Lord God has said, and bring upon us fear and dread.
A nation is blessed abundantly, if they follow The God of Eternity,
All men prosper, to His praise, as they seek to follow in His Ways.
But, this nation, many cherish, less God’s vision soon shall perish,
While blessed will be any nation, following not man but Revelation.
This is God’s Word revealed to us, who in God have put their trust,
For His Word pervades the life, of all men who follow Jesus Christ.
As we’re to be for all, His light, pointing men to the way that’s right,
The way found in The Word of God, as we’re lead by staff and rod.
Of the Truth that we come to know, when we in Christ’s Body grow,
His Truth to all, we must spread, to turn a land from fear and dread,
To the Righteousness from above, as we spread our Savior’s Love,
Along with God’s plan of Salvation, to the hearts across this nation.
Progress, which many wish to seek, will only make this nation weak,
For the only strength that will endure, is that which is from The Lord,
The Lord God reigning over all, judging nations which from Him fall,
But exalting nations and all within, who stand against iniquity of sin.
(Copyright ©12/2008)