Bigotry's Victim
I.
Dares the lama, most fleet of the sons of the wind,
The lion to rouse from his skull-covered lair?
When the tiger approaches can the fast-fleeting hind
Repose trust in his footsteps of air?
No! Abandoned he sinks in a trance of despair,
The monster transfixes his prey,
On the sand flows his life-blood away;
Whilst India's rocks to his death-yells reply,
Protracting the horrible harmony.
II.
Yet the fowl of the desert, when danger encroaches,
Dares fearless to perish defending her brood,
Though the fiercest of cloud-piercing tyrants approaches
Thirsting--ay, thirsting for blood;
And demands, like mankind, his brother for food;
Yet more lenient, more gentle than they;
For hunger, not glory, the prey
Must perish. Revenge does not howl in the dead.
Nor ambition with fame crown the murderer’s head.
III.
Though weak as the lama that bounds on the mountains,
And endued not with fast-fleeting footsteps of air,
Yet, yet will I draw from the purest of fountains,
Though a fiercer than tiger is there.
Though, more dreadful than death, it scatters despair,
Though its shadow eclipses the day,
And the darkness of deepest dismay
Spreads the influence of soul-chilling terror around,
And lowers on the corpses, that rot on the ground.
IV.
They came to the fountain to draw from its stream
Waves too pure, too celestial, for mortals to see;
They bathed for awhile in its silvery beam,
Then perished, and perished like me.
For in vain from the grasp of the Bigot I flee;
The most tenderly loved of my soul
Are slaves to his hated control.
He pursues me, he blasts me! 'Tis in vain that I fly:--
What remains, but to curse him,--to curse him and die?
poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
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Mortals! Around Your Destined Heads
Mortals! around your destined heads
Thick fly the shafts of death,
And lo! the savage spoiler spreads
A thousand toils beneath.
In vain we trifle with our fate,
Try every art in vain;
At best we but prolong the date,
And lengthen out our pain.
Fondly we think all danger fled,
For death is ever nigh;
Outstrips our unavailing speed,
Or meets us as we fly.
Thus the wrecked mariner may strive
Some desert shore to gain,
Secure of life, if he survive
The fury of the main.
But there, to famine doomed a prey,
Finds the mistaken wretch
He but escaped the troubled sea,
To perish on the beach.
Since then in vain we strive to guard
Our frailty from the foe,
Lord, let me live not unprepared
To meet the fatal blow!
poem by William Cowper
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To Death
Death! where is thy victory?
To triumph whilst I die,
To triumph whilst thine ebon wing
Enfolds my shuddering soul?
O Death! where is thy sting?
Not when the tides of murder roll,
When nations groan, that kings may bask in bliss,
Death! canst thou boast a victory such as this--
When in his hour of pomp and power
His blow the mightiest murderer gave,
Mid Nature’s cries the sacrifice
Of millions to glut the grave;
When sunk the Tyrant Desolation’s slave;
Or Freedom’s life-blood streamed upon thy shrine;
Stern Tyrant, couldst thou boast a victory such as mine?
To know in dissolution’s void
That mortals’ baubles sunk decay;
That everything, but Love, destroyed
Must perish with its kindred clay,--
Perish Ambition’s crown,
Perish her sceptred sway:
From Death’s pale front fades Pride’s fastidious frown.
In Death’s damp vault the lurid fires decay,
That Envy lights at heaven-born Virtue’s beam--
That all the cares subside,
Which lurk beneath the tide
Of life’s unquiet stream;--
Yes! this is victory!
And on yon rock, whose dark form glooms the sky,
To stretch these pale limbs, when the soul is fled;
To baffle the lean passions of their prey,
To sleep within the palace of the dead!
Oh! not the King, around whose dazzling throne
His countless courtiers mock the words they say,
Triumphs amid the bud of glory blown,
As I in this cold bed, and faint expiring groan!
Tremble, ye proud, whose grandeur mocks the woe
Which props the column of unnatural state!
You the plainings, faint and low,
From Misery’s tortured soul that flow,
Shall usher to your fate.
Tremble, ye conquerors, at whose fell command
The war-fiend riots o’er a peaceful land!
You Desolation’s gory throng
Shall bear from Victory along
To that mysterious strand.
poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
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Despair Is Darkness
DESPAIR IS DARKNESS
Despair is darkness-
Despair is death inside and death in the world and death in one’s own sad soul-
Despair is no way out -
Despair is the place where one is forever stuck -
Despair is the realization that one has done what one could – and one is not going anywhere else-
Despair is the admission of failure-
Despair is no sign of help anywhere around-
Despair is so much lost-
Despair is one‘s life is over-
Despair is regret-
Despair is the sense that one will never have the time to have another chance -
Despair is ‘it’s finished’-
Despair is no way out-
Despair is going down and more down and more dark and more afraid all the time -
Despair is the scream which hurts and does not stop the hurting -
Despair is the understanding that even Death will not save one -
Despair is that the pain will never end-not even with death.
Despair is no way out again and again and again- without end.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Label Me A Legend
smell of blood
sight of blood
walked into the zoo today walked out covered in tiger's blood
stomping hearts and killing tiger love
in the eye of the tiger i wonder if he saw a thug
or a political nigger who just
really hates you because
you were at the top of the food chain but
it happened so fast
that you had no chance to brag
i hope that when they put you to rest in that dark pit
will you go to a better place or be only surrounded by darkness
no pun intended but just to end it all my friend
all the people of my culture will label me a legend
poem by Anthony Ruben Lee Taylor
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Lycanthrope
The moon calls to me
A dark message of the wolfs howl
A yellow moonlight feed to me
The strength in me grows
A power i not often feel consumes my being
A fear of me develops in the hearts of men
The women dare not approach me
Priests curse me to send me to hell
All as my senses raise as i await for attack
a Light of dim approaches
I run
Faster deeper into the unknown
were darkness consumes even the most bold of hearts
and death grasps the souls of the righteous
The light continues to follow its demise
a crack of sticks under foot
The shuffling of creatures unknown
The hiss of the silent unknown wind
The unwary approach me
Unknowing of there death resides in the darkness
She becomes visible in the yellow moonlight
her beauty is revealed
brown hair
green eyes
her soul untormenting
My heart begs to leave her unharmed
The taint inside forever grows though
so i approach her
death approaches her
My howl to weaken the hearts of the strongest
though she stands firm with love in her heart
My taint grows ever stronger
My murderous rage ready for another unwelcome soul
But yet she remains calm
Love remains in her heart
I howl ready once again to take life
But the rage
It is gone
Warmth returns to my blood
My heart resumes control
My form of the natural and once again i can love
She had placed a hand on the chest of a beast
and that hands remains still on the chest of a man
I have been saved from the beast
and i love her for it
But the beast remains
resting now
the beast now no longer answers to the moon
the beast now tamed answers to love.
poem by Daniel Laurence
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The Lion and the Lamb
I saw a Tiger's golden flank,
I saw what food he ate,
By a desert spring he drank;
The Tiger's name was Hate.
Then I saw a placid Lamb
Lying fast asleep;
Like a river from its dam
Flashed the Tiger's leap.
I saw a lion tawny-red,
Terrible and brave;
The Tiger's leap overhead
Broke like a wave.
In sand below or sun above
He faded like a flame.
The Lamb said, "I am Love;
Lion, tell your name."
The Lion's voice thundering
Shook his vaulted breast,
"I am Love. By this spring,
Brother, let us rest."
poem by Elinor Morton Wylie
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Tiger, Tiger
Tiger one to tiger two
Tiger one says I love you
Tiger two does not reply
So tiger one, he starts to cry
Tiger two says why you cry?
Tiger one says 'you did not reply'
Tiger two says I need not to
Tiger one says why?
Tiger two says i love you
Tiger one says i love you too
Tiger one says why oh why?
Why didnt you reply?
Tiger two says I love you
I don't have to say it
You know its true
Now you know the reason why
Tiger two did not reply
Tiger one realises why
Tiger two did not reply
So tiger one he starts to smile
And says tiger two is very fine
For tiger two is my dearest babe
Whome I think of everyday
And tiger two I cannot wait
To see your pretty face again
Tiger
Tiger with coat of dissimilar stripes,
When he’s angry, tiger swipes,
Tiger cautious, guarding his lair,
Danger lurking, tiger aware.
Tiger hungry so he hunts,
Facing quarry, tiger confronts.
Tiger waiting, being sly,
Undercover, no tiger espy.
Tiger detects, now he purrs,
Hunger pangs, tiger stirs.
Tiger quick, must now surprise,
Here we have one tiger, wise.
Tiger from his throat he roars,
Stretching out those tiger claws.
Tiger moving, stealthy pelt,
Expiration, by tiger dealt.
Tiger now with belly filled,
Anger passed, one tiger stilled.
Tiger sleeping, with the Pride,
Craving gone, tiger satisfied.
Tiger such a majestic sight,
Near extinction, tiger fight.
Tiger beautiful and fine,
You’re such a leonine feline.
Tiger we must have respect, ,
For your great tiger intellect.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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Run free, Angel (R.I.P. Chelsea King)
She loved to run through the green forest,
Where the sun watched over her,
Where the lake’s cool and riveting motions
Met with the tranquil flow of the wind.
But the sun’s eyes
Could not change her destiny
They could not predispose her judgment
Or those of the Monster
Whose impulses were like those of a Tiger
Ready to pounce
Out of thirst, out of hunger, out of a sick taste for Vulnerability.
She ran like a deer,
Graceful and liberated,
Her eyes saw no danger
She succumbed to no fear.
But as a deer is entranced by a clean patch of grass
A Tiger finds opportunity
Strikes hard, and strikes fast.
The Tiger, the Monster,
Pounced on her body, devoured her soul
Fed her to the lake, who swallowed her whole.
The lake watched over her until the people came
It knew that the Monster would not win this game
His satisfaction would not go unnoticed
For this deer, this child, this girl
Was an Angel,
Is an Angel
And will always be.
poem by Jamie Ries
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Psalm XXXV: Now Plead My Cause, Almighty God
Now plead my cause, Almighty God,
With all the sons of strife;
And fight against the men of blood,
Who fight against my life.
Draw out thy spear and stop their way,
Lift thine avenging rod;
But to my soul in mercv say,
"I am thy Savior God!"
They plant their snares to catch my feet,
And nets of mischief spread;
Plunge the destroyers in the pit
That their own hands have made.
Let fogs and darkness hide their way,
And slipp'ry be their ground;
Thy wrath shall make their lives a prey,
And all their rage confound.
They fly like chaff before the wind,
Before thine angry breath;
The angel of the Lord behind
Pursues them down to death.
They love the road that leads to hell;
Then let the rebels die,
Whose malice is implacable
Against the Lord on high.
But if thou hast a chosen few
Amongst that impious race,
Divide them from the bloody crew,
By thy surprising grace.
Then will I raise my tuneful voice,
To make thy wonders known;
In their salvation I'll rejoice,
And bless thee for my own.
Behold the love, the gen'rous love,
That holy David shows;
Hark, how his sounding bowels move
To his afflicted foes !
When they are sick his soul complains,
And seems to feel the smart;
The spirit of the gospel reigns,
And melts his pious heart.
How did his flowing tears condole
As for a brother dead !
And fasting mortified his soul,
While for their life he prayed.
They groaned, and cursed him on their bed,
Yet still he pleads and mourns;
And double blessings on his head
The righteous God returns,
Glorious type of heav'nly grace !
Thus Christ the Lord appears;
While sinners curse, the Savior prays,
And pities them with tears.
He, the true David, Isr'el's King,
Blessed and beloved of God,
To save us rebels, dead in sin,
Paid his own dearest blood.
poem by Isaac Watts
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The Tiger Smells Blood
Silently resting neath a tree,
Pawing at the straw of grass.
Eyes piercing the horizon,
Searching all senses alas.
Resting on the cool mud,
Then the Tiger smells blood.
The Tigers nostrils become filled,
Running toward the freshly killed.
The Tiger stalks through the meadow,
Sun to back, ready to attack.
A pack of dogs surround the meat,
He leaps into the pack ready to eat.
The pack filled with fear,
Stare at the mighty beast.
Would they stand fast,
Or become a part of the feast.
The Tiger snarls shoulders hunch,
Who would stand before his lunch.
The dogs bark and run away,
They would not eat their prey.
The Tiger eats the carcass crushing bones,
He then returns to lay beneath the tree.
His meal digested and stomach moans,
He licks his paws, then smiles with glee.
An old man robbed by ruthless hood,
Like a pack of dogs they draw blood.
They leave him laying in their city pride,
In the jungle, the beast will eat their hide.
poem by Saint Eule
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Lord William
No eye beheld when William plunged
Young Edmund in the stream,
No human ear but William's heard
Young Edmund's drowning scream.
Submissive all the vassals own'd
The murderer for their Lord,
And he, the rightful heir, possessed
The house of Erlingford.
The ancient house of Erlingford
Stood midst a fair domain,
And Severn's ample waters near
Roll'd through the fertile plain.
And often the way-faring man
Would love to linger there,
Forgetful of his onward road
To gaze on scenes so fair.
But never could Lord William dare
To gaze on Severn's stream;
In every wind that swept its waves
He heard young Edmund scream.
In vain at midnight's silent hour
Sleep closed the murderer's eyes,
In every dream the murderer saw
Young Edmund's form arise.
In vain by restless conscience driven
Lord William left his home,
Far from the scenes that saw his guilt,
In pilgrimage to roam.
To other climes the pilgrim fled,
But could not fly despair,
He sought his home again, but peace
Was still a stranger there.
Each hour was tedious long, yet swift
The months appear'd to roll;
And now the day return'd that shook
With terror William's soul.
A day that William never felt
Return without dismay,
For well had conscience kalendered
Young Edmund's dying day.
A fearful day was that! the rains
Fell fast, with tempest roar,
And the swoln tide of Severn spread
Far on the level shore.
In vain Lord William sought the feast
In vain he quaff'd the bowl,
And strove with noisy mirth to drown
The anguish of his soul.
The tempest as its sudden swell
In gusty howlings came,
With cold and death-like feelings seem'd
To thrill his shuddering frame.
Reluctant now, as night came on,
His lonely couch he prest,
And wearied out, he sunk to sleep,
To sleep, but not to rest.
Beside that couch his brother's form
Lord Edmund seem'd to stand,
Such and so pale as when in death
He grasp'd his brother's hand;
Such and so pale his face as when
With faint and faltering tongue,
To William's care, a dying charge
He left his orphan son.
'I bade thee with a father's love
My orphan Edmund guard--
Well William hast thou kept thy charge!
Now take thy due reward.'
He started up, each limb convuls'd
With agonizing fear,
He only heard the storm of night--
'Twas music to his ear.
When lo! the voice of loud alarm
His inmost soul appals,
What ho! Lord William rise in haste!
The water saps thy walls!
He rose in haste, beneath the walls
He saw the flood appear,
It hemm'd him round, 'twas midnight now,
No human aid was near.
He heard the shout of joy, for now
A boat approach'd the wall,
And eager to the welcome aid
They crowd for safety all.
My boat is small, the boatman cried,
This dangerous haste forbear!
Wait other aid, this little bark
But one from hence can bear.
Lord William leap'd into the boat,
Haste--haste to yonder shore!
And ample wealth shall well reward,
Ply swift and strong the oar.
The boatman plied the oar, the boat
Went light along the stream,
Sudden Lord William heard a cry
Like Edmund's drowning scream.
The boatman paus'd, methought I heard
A child's distressful cry!
'Twas but the howling wind of night
Lord William made reply.
Haste haste--ply swift and strong the oar!
Haste haste across the stream!
Again Lord William heard a cry
Like Edmund's drowning scream.
I heard a child's distressful scream
The boatman cried again.
Nay hasten on--the night is dark--
And we should search in vain.
Oh God! Lord William dost thou know
How dreadful 'tis to die?
And can'st thou without pity hear
A child's expiring cry?
How horrible it is to sink
Beneath the chilly stream,
To stretch the powerless arms in vain,
In vain for help to scream?
The shriek again was heard. It came
More deep, more piercing loud,
That instant o'er the flood the moon
Shone through a broken cloud.
And near them they beheld a child,
Upon a crag he stood,
A little crag, and all around
Was spread the rising flood.
The boatman plied the oar, the boat
Approach'd his resting place,
The moon-beam shone upon the child
And show'd how pale his face.
Now reach thine hand! the boatman cried
Lord William reach and save!
The child stretch'd forth his little hands
To grasp the hand he gave.
Then William shriek'd; the hand he touch'd
Was cold and damp and dead!
He felt young Edmund in his arms
A heavier weight than lead.
The boat sunk down, the murderer sunk
Beneath the avenging stream;
He rose, he scream'd, no human ear
Heard William's drowning scream.
poem by Robert Southey
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The Eye Of The Tiger
Risin up, back on the street
Did my time, took my chances
Went the distance, now Im back on my feet
Just a man and his will to survive
So many times, it happens too fast
You change your passion for glory
Dont lose your grip on the dreams of the past
You must fight just to keep them alive
Its the eye of the tiger, its the cream of the fight
Risin up to the challenge of our rival
And the last known survivor stalks his prey in the night
And hes watchin us all in the eye of the tiger
Face to face, out in the heat
Hangin tough, stayin hungry
They stack the odds til we take to the street
For we kill with the skill to survive
Its the eye of the tiger, its the cream of the fight
Risin up to the challenge of our rival
And the last known survivor stalks his prey in the night
And hes watchin us all in the eye of the tiger
Risin up, straight to the top
Have the guts, got the glory
Went the distance, now Im not gonna stop
Just a man and his will to survive
Its the eye of the tiger, its the cream of the fight
Risin up to the challenge of our rival
And the last known survivor stalks his prey in the night
And hes watchin us all in the eye of the tiger
The eye of the tiger (repeats out)...
song performed by by Green Day
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Let Us Prey
Im the reason women bleed
Its been called
The curse of eve
Ancient times to modern lies
You know my name
Turned your pleasures into pain
You made love I give you aids
My pollution gives you cancer
Of the brain
Yet to me you sell your soul
Fame and glory plated gold
Youre such an easy
Prey for me
Please let us prey
Please let us hunt
7 million bodies lying dead
Beneath my hands
War was such a simple
Game to play
Preachers do my bidding yet
Blame me for their sins
Altar boys are taken in dismay
Kill and eat your neighbors
Gas a subway in japan
I got more apocalyptic plans
Please let us prey
Please let us hunt
Suicide...genocide
song performed by by Motley Crue
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Felo de Se
With Apologies to Mr. Swinburne.
For repose I have sighed and have struggled ; have sigh'd and have struggled in vain;
I am held in the Circle of Being and caught in the Circle of Pain.
I was wan and weary with life ; my sick soul yearned for death;
I was weary of women and war and the sea and the wind's wild breath;
I cull'd sweet poppies and crush'd them, the blood ran rich and red:--
And I cast it in crystal chalice and drank of it till I was dead.
And the mould of the man was mute, pulseless in ev'ry part,
The long limbs lay on the sand with an eagle eating the heart.
Repose for the rotting head and peace for the putrid breast,
But for that which is 'I' indeed the gods have decreed no rest;
No rest but an endless aching, a sorrow which grows amain:--
I am caught in the Circle of Being and held in the Circle of Pain.
Bitter indeed is Life, and bitter of Life the breath,
But give me Life and its ways and its men, if this be Death.
Wearied I once of the Sun and the voices which clamour'd around:
Give them me back--in the sightless depths there is neither light nor sound.
Sick is my soul, and sad and feeble and faint as it felt
When (far, dim day) in the fair flesh-fane of the body it dwelt.
But then I could run to the shore, weeping and weary and weak;
See the waves' blue sheen and feel the breath of the breeze on my cheek:
Could wail with the wailing wind; strike sharply the hands in despair;
Could shriek with the shrieking blast, grow frenzied and tear the hair;
Could fight fierce fights with the foe or clutch at a human hand;
And weary could lie at length on the soft, sweet, saffron sand. . .
I have neither a voice nor hands, nor any friend nor a foe;
I am I--just a Pulse of Pain--I am I, that is all I know.
For Life, and the sickness of Life, and Death and desire to die;--
They have passed away like the smoke, here is nothing but Pain and I.
Another Man's Sin Can Do You In
Moving in the shadows on a moon lit night
a man stalked another and kept out of sight.
A grudge had to be settled by this cowardly pursuer
he wanted sweet revenge from this evil wrong doer.
The opportunity was right and he leapt from the dark
with an almighty thrust his knife went straight to the heart.
The victim lay motionless as blood oozed onto the ground
the attacker kicked him hard, so no life could be found.
The murderer looked all around to check no one had seen
then vanished into the shadows as before the death scene.
The very next day the slayer boasted to a so called friend
of how he stalked and killed a man to get his revenge.
Loose talk soon found its way to the dead man’s brother,
now this could only be settled by the death of another.
The murderer found out that he was being hunted down
so arranged an ambush at a hairdressers in town.
The dead man’s brother was told the murderer would be there
as usual watching the hairdresser trim his wife’s hair.
At 14: 30 the brother saw them and entered the salon,
he shut the door quietly, and snapped the locks on.
Seeing the murderer standing at the far end of the room
he pulled out his knife, knowing it would be over soon.
The murderer saw him approach and grinned at him
“Ah, I see you’re ready, ” he said, “then shall we begin? ”
The brother got closer and lunged forward with his knife,
but then he got stabbed with a blade by the murderer’s wife.
Coughing blood he fell to the ground and asked the woman why,
“Because your brother raped me and deserved to die.”
poem by Orlando Belo
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Reciprocal Kindness The Primary Law Of Nature
Androcles, from his injured lord, in dread
Of instant death, to Lybia's desert fled,
Tired with his toilsome flight, and parch'd with heat,
He spied at length a cavern's cool retreat;
But scarce had given to rest his weary frame,
When, hugest of his kind, a lion came:
He roar'd approaching: but the savage din
To plaintive murmurs changed -- arrived within,
And with expressive looks, his lifted paw
Presenting, and implored from whom he saw.
The fugitive, through terror at a stand,
Dared not awhile afford his trembling hand;
But bolder grown, at length inherent found
A pointed thorn, and drew it from the wound.
The cure was wrought; he wiped the sanious blood,
And firm and free from pain the lion stood.
Again he seeks the wilds, and day by day
Regales his inmate with the parted prey.
Nor he disdains the dole, though unprepared,
Spread on the ground, and with a lion shared.
But thus to live -- still lost -- sequester'd still --
Scarce seem'd his lord's revenge a heavier ill.
Home! native home! O might he but repair!
He must -- he will, though death attends him there.
He goes, and, doom'd to perish, on the sands
Of the full theatre unpitied stands:
When lo! the selfsame lion from his cage
Flies to devour him, famish'd into rage.
He flies, but viewing in his purposed prey
The man, his healer, pauses on his way,
And, soften'd by remembrance into sweet
And kind composure, crouches at his feet.
Mute with astonishment, the assembly gaze:
But why, ye Romans? Whence your mute amaze?
All this is natural: nature bade him rend
An enemy: she bids him spare a friend.
poem by William Cowper
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Love's Last Adieu
The roses of Love glad the garden of life,
Though nurtur'd 'mid weeds dropping pestilent dew,
Till Time crops the leaves with unmerciful knife,
Or prunes them for ever, in Love's last adieu!
In vain, with endearments, we soothe the sad heart,
In vain do we vow for an age to be true;
The chance of an hour may command us to part,
Or Death disunite us, in Love's last adieu!
Still Hope, breathing peace, through the grief-swollen breast,
Will whisper, ÒOur meeting we yet may renew:Ó
With this dream of deceit, half our sorrow's represt,
Nor taste we the poison, of Love's last adieu!
Oh! mark you yon pair, in the sunshine of youth,
Love twin'd round their childhood his flow'rs as they grew;
They flourish awhile, in the season of truth,
Till chill'd by the winter of Love's last adieu!
Sweet lady! why thus doth a tear steal its way,
Down a cheek which outrivals thy bosom in hue?
Yet why do I ask?---to distraction a prey,
Thy reason has perish'd, with Love's last adieu!
Oh! who is yon Misanthrope, shunning mankind?
From cities to caves of the forest he flew:
There, raving, he howls his complaint to the wind;
The mountains reverberate Love's last adieu!
Now Hate rules a heart which in Love's easy chains,
Once Passion's tumultuous blandishments knew;
Despair now inflames the dark tide of his veins,
He ponders, in frenzy, on Love's last adieu!
How he envies the wretch, with a soul wrapt in steel!
His pleasures are scarce, yet his troubles are few,
Who laughs at the pang that he never can feel,
And dreads not the anguish of Love's last adieu!
Youth flies, life decays, even hope is o'ercast;
No more, with Love's former devotion, we sue:
He spreads his young wing, he retires with the blast;
The shroud of affection is Love's last adieu!
In this life of probation, for rapture divine,
Astrea declares that some penance is due;
From him, who has worshipp'd at Love's gentle shrine,
The atonement is ample, in Love's last adieu!
Who kneels to the God, on his altar of light
Must myrtle and cypress alternately strew:
His myrtle, an emblem of purest delight,
His cypress, the garland of Love's last adieu!
Twarted Tiger.
Tiger hunting in dark of night,
Keenful eyes keeping it's prey in sight,
hidden in the long grass, crouching low,
waiting to deliver it's fatal blow.
Moon watches tiger with a glint in his eye,
illuminates crouched tiger to all prey nearby,
tiger growles at the moon as he shakes his furry head,
and on an empty stomach takes himself off to bed.
tuesday 1st november,2005.
The Chase
Quick, fly to the covert, thou hunted of men!
For the bloodhounds are baying o'er mountain and glen;
The riders are mounted, the loose rein is given,
And curses of wrath are ascending to heaven.
O, speed to thy footsteps! for ruin and death,
Like the hurricane's rage, gather thick round thy path;
And the deep muttered curses grow loud and more loud,
As horse after horse swells the thundering crowd.
Speed, speed, to thy footsteps! thy track has been found;
Now,
sport
for the
rider
, and
blood
for the
hound!
Through brake and through forest the man-prey is driven;
O, help for the hopeless, thou merciful Heaven!
On! on to the mountain! they're baffled again,
And hope for the woe-stricken still may remain;
The fast-flagging steeds are all white with their foam,
The bloodhounds have turned from the chase to their home.
Joy! joy to the wronged one! the haven he gains,
Escaped from his thraldom, and freed from his chains!
The heaven-stamped image-the God-given soul-
No more shall the spoiler at pleasure control.
O, shame to Columbia, that on her bright plains,
Man pines in his fetters, and curses his chains!
Shame! shame! that her star-spangled banner should wave
Where the lash is made red in the blood of the slave.
Sons of old Pilgrim Fathers! and are ye thus dumb?
Shall tyranny triumph, and freedom succumb?
While mothers are torn from their children apart,
And agony sunders the cords of the heart?
Shall the sons of those sires that once spurned the chain,
Turn bloodhounds to hunt and make captive again?
O, shame to your honor, and shame to your pride,
And shame on your memory ever abide!
Will not your old sires start up from the ground,
At the crack of the whip, and bay of the hound,
And shaking their skeleton hands in your face,
Curse the germs that produced such a miscreant race?
O, rouse ye for freedom, before on your path
Heaven pours without mixture the vials of wrath!
Loose every hard burden-break off every chain-
Restore to the bondman his freedom again.
poem by Anonymous Americas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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