Ode to H.H. The Nizam Of Hyderabad
DEIGN, Prince, my tribute to receive,
This lyric offering to your name,
Who round your jewelled scepter bind
The lilies of a poet's fame;
Beneath whose sway concordant dwell
The peoples whom your laws embrace,
In brotherhood of diverse creeds,
And harmony of diverse race:
The votaries of the Prophet's faith,
Of whom you are the crown and chief
And they, who bear on Vedic brows
Their mystic symbols of belief;
And they, who worshipping the sun,
Fled o'er the old Iranian sea;
And they, who bow to Him who trod
The midnight waves of Galilee.
Sweet, sumptuous fables of Baghdad
The splendours of your court recall,
The torches of a Thousand Nights
Blaze through a single festival;
And Saki-singers down the streets,
Pour for us, in a stream divine,
From goblets of your love-ghazals
The rapture of your Sufi wine.
Prince, where your radiant cities smile,
Grim hills their sombre vigils keep,
Your ancient forests hoard and hold
The legends of their centuried sleep;
Your birds of peace white-pinioned float
O'er ruined fort and storied plain,
Your faithful stewards sleepless guard
The harvests of your gold and grain.
God give you joy, God give you grace
To shield the truth and smite the wrong,
To honour Virtue, Valour, Worth.
To cherish faith and foster song.
So may the lustre of your days
Outshine the deeds Firdusi sung,
Your name within a nation's prayer,
Your music on a nation's tongue.
poem by Sarojini Naidu
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A Hymn
O God of earth and altar,
Bow down and hear our cry,
Our earthly rulers falter,
Our people drift and die;
The walls of gold entomb us,
The swords of scorn divide,
Take not thy thunder from us,
But take away our pride.
From all that terror teaches,
From lies of tongue and pen,
From all the easy speeches
That comfort cruel men,
From sale and profanation
Of honour and the sword,
From sleep and from damnation,
Deliver us, good Lord.
Tie in a living tether
The prince and priest and thrall,
Bind all our lives together,
Smite us and save us all;
In ire and exultation
Aflame with faith, and free,
Lift up a living nation,
A single sword to thee.
poem by G.K. Chesterton (1906)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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A Hymn
O God of earth and altar,
Bow down and hear our cry,
Our earthly rulers falter,
Our people drift and die;
The walls of gold entomb us,
The swords of scorn divide,
Take not thy thunder from us,
But take away our pride.
From all that terror teaches,
From lies of tongue and pen,
From all the easy speeches
That comfort cruel men,
From sale and profanation
Of honour and the sword,
From sleep and from damnation,
Deliver us, good Lord.
Tie in a living tether
The prince and priest and thrall,
Bind all our lives together,
Smite us and save us all;
In ire and exultation
Aflame with faith, and free,
Lift up a living nation,
A single sword to thee.
poem by Gilbert Keith Chesterton
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Christmas
How grace this hallowed day?
Shall happy bells, from yonder ancient spire,
Send their glad greetings to each Christmas fire
Round which the children play?
Alas! for many a moon,
That tongueless tower hath cleaved the Sabbath air,
Mute as an obelisk of ice, aglare
Beneath an Arctic noon.
Shame to the foes that drown
Our psalms of worship with their impious drum,
The sweetest chimes in all the land lie dumb
In some far rustic town.
There, let us think, they keep,
Of the dead Yules which here beside the sea
They've ushered in with old-world, English glee,
Some echoes in their sleep.
How shall we grace the day?
With feast, and song, and dance, and antique sports,
And shout of happy children in the courts,
And tales of ghost and fay?
Is there indeed a door,
Where the old pastimes, with their lawful noise,
And all the merry round of Christmas joys,
Could enter as of yore?
Would not some pallid face
Look in upon the banquet, calling up
Dread shapes of battles in the wassail cup,
And trouble all the place?
How could we bear the mirth,
While some loved reveler of a year ago
Keeps his mute Christmas now beneath the snow,
In cold Virginian earth?
How shall we grace the day?
Ah! let the thought that on this holy morn
The Prince of Peace -- the Prince of Peace was born,
Employ us, while we pray!
Pray for the peace which long
Hath left this tortured land, and haply now
Holds its white court on some far mountain's brow,
There hardly safe from wrong!
Let every sacred fane
Call its sad votaries to the shrine of God,
And, with the cloister and the tented sod,
Join in one solemn strain!
With pomp of Roman form,
With the grave ritual brought from England's shore,
And with the simple faith which asks no more
Than that the heart be warm!
He, who, till time shall cease,
Will watch that earth, where once, not all in vain,
He died to give us peace, may not disdain
A prayer whose theme is -- peace.
Perhaps ere yet the Spring
Hath died into the Summer, over all
The land, the peace of His vast love shall fall,
Like some protecting wing.
Oh, ponder what it means!
Oh, turn the rapturous thought in every way!
Oh, give the vision and the fancy play,
And shape the coming scenes!
Peace in the quiet dales,
Made rankly fertile by the blood of men,
Peace in the woodland, and the lonely glen,
Peace in the peopled vales!
Peace in the crowded town,
Peace in a thousand fields of waving grain,
Peace in the highway and the flowery lane,
Peace on the wind-swept down!
Peace on the farthest seas,
Peace in our sheltered bays and ample streams,
Peace wheresoe'er our starry garland gleams,
And peace in every breeze!
Peace on the whirring marts,
Peace where the scholar thinks, the hunter roams,
Peace, God of Peace! peace, peace, in all our homes,
And peace in all our hearts!
poem by Henry Timrod
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Truly Great Blessings Belong To Those With...
seldom express opinions upon
what God did or did not say
to various prophets such topics
are precious to hearts believers
who worship honour God with faith
documents abound attesting
to what was said recorded
by faithful present witnesses
who listened to eagerly received
the words from prophet’s lips
interpretation mounts up to heaven
yet basics remain true sacrosanct
even an atheist an unbeliever
who does not believe in God deities
must admit that all individuals
who truly live by the ten
commandments are trustworthy
that any nation blessed with citizens
who do not lie cheat steal rape murder
who help support love their neighbour
as they love God and themselves
live in a nation blessed with belief
blessed with true equality peace
how rare is a nation rejecting
such life principles
which continues to prosper
even a nation of atheists prospers
when applying equality justice
respect welfare for all citizens
how much more prosperous
is a nation striving to walk
with God obeying divine will
commandments with a good heart
truly great blessings belong to those
with the love of God his laws
written into purity of their hearts
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Name this Teddy Bear
In the centre of the window at your local Kidz-r-Uz,
all winking fairy lights, glitter, sparkle and buy-me,
sits a bear. A Teddy Bear.
He’s the soul of Patience
in any and all religions – one paw held out
to take you by the hand – that’s, should you ask –
he’s Faith, Hope, and Love:
he’s Faith itself; he’s beyond our grown-up limits,
he’s Faith like children know – real Faith;
Faith that’s beyond the breaking faith;
he’s every hope that Christmas promises,
or Chanukah, or any other winter feast
when parents give their children tokens of their love…
he asks nothing of you, but to receive your love,
unconditionally.. a cuddly mirror of your love
in which you’ll see and know that love;
to show you Love itself unblemished..
unlike all else in this changing world
inhabited by changeable human beings,
he wouldn’t know how to let you down;
deny your faith; destroy your hope; reject your love;
he’ll be a part of your life, for life;
and rightly so. Look closely at him:
is he the one for you?
He will be your first taste of life’s nobility;
almost, you could say, divine;
he will sit for you as your steady self
in the temple of your heart;
give him the name that honours
honour itself – give him the Name
that this world means to you; a name
that none can take from him;
honour him as that.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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The Twenty-Fifth Of April
THIS day is Anzac Day!
Made sacred by the memory
Of those who fought and died, and fought and live,
And gave the best that men may give
For love of Land. It dawns once more,
And, though on alien sea and shore
The guns are silent all,
Yet we with pride recall
The deeds which gave it immortality.
Great deeds are deathless things!
The doer dies, but not the deed,
And, when upon that fateful April day
Our Anzacs, throwing all but love away,
Gave life and limb for Honour's sake,
With Freedom tremblingly at stake,
They lit a beacon-light
Imperishable, bright,
That evermore the Nation's soul shall heed.
Not Peace, not Peace alone
Can make a nation great and good
And bring it that full stature, strength, and grace
That fit it for an age-enduring place
In men's regard. Through storm and strife
It runs to sweet and noble life;
For through its veins there runs
The valour of great sons
Who died to give it stately nationhood.
This day is Anzac Day!
Made sacred by the thrilling thought
Of those who proved their souls, it reappears;
And thus 'twill dawn, and dawn through future years
Till Time our petty deeds efface,
And others, dwelling in our place,
Tell o'er, with tongue and pen,
The glorious tale again
Of how on beach and crag the Anzacs fought.
poem by Roderic Quinn
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To His lady,
IMPLORING HER TO BE TRUE
MISTRESS of me, mistress of all the arts
And charms that sway men's hot ungoverned hearts,
Receive their tribute--smile at their defeat;
I do not ask that you should spare them, sweet.
Only I ask that in the secret shrine
No prayers be heard, no offering laid, but mine.
Each man who sees your eyes must needs lay down
Low at your feet the votive myrtle crown:
Let them bring crowns to die beneath your feet;
I, only I, must bring the crown you wear
Shadowing the sombre glory of your hair.
poem by Edith Nesbit
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All Roads That Lead To God Are Good
All roads that lead to God are good.
What matters it, your faith, or mine?
Both centre at the goal divine
Of love’s eternal Brotherhood.
The kindly life in house or street –
The life of prayer and mystic rite –
The student’s search for truth and light –
These paths at one great Junction meet.
Before the oldest book was writ,
Full many a prehistoric soul
Arrived at this unchanging goal,
Through changeless Love, that leads to it.
What matters that one found his Christ
In rising sun, or burning fire?
In faith within him did not tire,
His longing for the Truth sufficed.
Before our modern hell was brought
To edify the modern world,
Full many a hate-filled soul was hurled
In lakes of fire by its own thought.
A thousand creeds have come and gone,
But what is that to you or me?
Creeds are but branches of a tree –
The root of love lives on and on.
Though branch by branch proved withered wood,
The root is warm with precious wine.
Then keep your faith, and leave me mine –
All roads that lead to God are good.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Hymn For a Lasting Peace
The world needs a lasting peace if man is to survive:
Let nation not fight nation,
Let race not conquer race,
Let the strong not commit invasion,
Let all men share Earth's grace.
Ban aggression of any kind,
Ban all arms production,
Ban man's violence against mankind,
Ban all forms of destruction.
It is for a lasting peace that man has got to strive.
The world needs a lasting peace if man is to survive:
To save the snow capped mountains,
To save the depths of the seas,
To save the springs and fountains,
To save the birds and the bees;
That farms and forests flourish,
That rivers and streams flow pure,
That fields give life and nourish,
That Earth's great seasons endure.
It is for a lasting peace that man has got to strive.
The world needs a lasting peace if man is to survive:
That man may walk upon Earth,
That he will find an open door,
That there be the rights of birth,
That man destroys not, be the law;
That each to his faith can hold,
That homes and gardens are safe,
That not a child dies in the cold,
That not a child is a hungry waif.
It is for a lasting peace that man has got to strive.
The world needs a lasting peace if man is to survive:
That Human Rights be for all men,
That every injustice should cease,
That Human Rights protects all men,
That all men can find perfect peace;
That there be but one brotherhood,
That the land, sea and sky be free,
That progress be for the common good,
That peace everlasting will be.
It is for a lasting peace that man has got to strive.
poem by Pauline D'Roza
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3-Way Phone Call
Hello
Hey little brother
Hey sis how you doing?
Fine, what's going on with you?
Oh nothing much
Got your message from earlier this afternoon
And something just didn't sound right
And so I'm calling you back to check on you
How you holding up?
Oh everything is fine
You know I don't believe you
What you saying? You think I'm lying?
I'm not saying it, but I know you
How you know me?
'Cause you're my brother
And therefore I can tell
When something is troubling you
Okay, okay I give you that
Nothing's wrong, I take that back
There is something on my mind
But sis, I don't want to waste your time
But I done told you time and time again
Whatever you're going through
You can come and talk to me
And I will say a prayer with you
But I done prayed and prayed night and day
Mmm-hmm
I still can't seem to find my way
Rob that ain't nothing but the devil telling you
That you're washed up and you're through
But sister's here to let you know
Boy you're gonna make it through
Sister, do you really believe that I can rise again?
Yes, and not only that, Rob, God will forgive you for your sins
T tell me what to do?
Well first you gotta believe the truth
Sometimes it's hard to believe in Him
That's okay because he believes in you
The winds, the rain
The storm
The weapons that are formed against us (whoo, I will survive)
The trying times (oh)
The sleepless nights
Just know that faith is with us (oh, and I believe yeah)
Through all of the hills (oh)
And valleys roamed (just)
That we must come to (whoa)
Walk side by side (yes)
Follow the light (follow)
And know we'll make it through (yeah, we'll make it through yeah)
So, so what you're saying is believe a little more?
Yes, 'cause faith is the key that will opens up the door
What you're saying to me, it's hard to receive
Especially when trouble follows me
When we're keeping it real
Robert sometimes
Trouble can follow where you lead
Yes sister, I know sometimes, but I...
Just wait, let me make a phone call
To who?
A prayer buddy of mine
She can help you tear down your walls
I don't want nobody in my business
She's a friend
And besides you need this
You know how church folk can be
Boy I'm your sister, trust in me
Mmm
Now hold on...
Maybe she's gone...
No
Maybe we ought to just try...
Hello
Shh-shh, hello, is Kim there?
Yes, I think she's around here somewhere
Hold on
Now you just let me do the talking
Mmm-hmm
Hello?
Hey girl, how you doing?
Hey Kelly
My little brother's on the line and needed advice from you
Ooh what can I do for you?
Hello?
Go ahead Rob, she's talking to you
Oh, well I know you must be very busy
So I'm not gon' mess around, uh
Just telling my sister how my life is upside down
And I don't know whether I'm going left or right half the time
Sometimes think I'm gonna lose my mind, you feel me?
Mmm-hmm... similar to what I used to go through
Really?
Yes, and sometimes I still do
Yeah?
See it doesn't matter who you are
Or where you're from
If you struggle, God will use you
Amen sister, what you're saying is so true
Rob are you there?
Yes, I'm just listening to the both of you
It's so easy to say, but not so easy to do
Yes but if you stand the truth
It will free you
Oh
Just stand strong
Stand strong
With your head held high
With your head held high
Said it wont be long
In time he will provide
Mmm-hmm
Will he?
Yes he will
You just stay in the race
Just stay in the race
And keep on running
And down to the end
For your day is coming
For your day is coming
The winds, the rain (whoa)
The storm (I understand)
The weapons that are formed against us (formed against me yeah)
The trying times (oh, trying times)
The sleepless nights (the sleepless nights yeah)
Just know that faith is with us (I know that faith is with me yeah)
Through all of the hills (ooh no)
And valleys roamed (valleys and roads yeah)
That we must come to (whoa, come to)
Walk side by side (side by side)
Follow the light (follow the light)
And know we'll make it through (we'll make it though)
I know it, he'll give you peace
In the midst of your storm
Sometimes I feel like it's too late for me
But he'll never leave you
No way
You just gotta hang on
Hang on
Robert say a prayer (yeah) keep your head (I feel it)
God will do just what he said
Finally I think I get it
Yes, that's it
That's the spirit
The winds, the rain (oh yeah, oh the wind) (yeah)
The storm (ohh winds and rain) (winds and rain)
The weapons that are formed against us (that are formed against you yay) (they may be formed)
The trying times (yeah) (and all of your trying times)
The sleepless nights (every minute)
Just know that faith is with us (yeah) (yes, know that faith is with us) (faith is with us)
Through all of the hills (and through all of the hills) (all the hills)
And valleys roamed (valleys low) (valleys low)
That we must come to (he'll give you strength to keep you strong) (yes he will) (keep you strong)
Walk side by side (the devil is a liar) (yeah)
Follow the light (you will rise again) (alright)
And know we'll make it through (and show the world)
The winds, the rain (yes he does) (hey-yes)
The storm (so if you really want it) (yes I do)
The weapons that are formed against us (fall to your knees and lift your hands, and now repeat after me and say..)
The trying times (God) (God) (I love you) (I love you)
The sleepless nights (I've sinned) (I've sinned) (forgive me) (forgive me)
Just know that faith is with us (I'm sorry) (I'm sorry) (I love you) (I love you) (please) (please) (help me Lord) (help me Lord)
Through all of the hills (I need you) (I need you) (to come) (to come) (into) (into) (my life) (my life)
And valleys roamed (and save me) (and save me)
That we must come to (save me) (save me) (save me) (save me)
Walk side by side (save me) (save me) (save me) (save me)
Follow the light (save me) (save me) (save me) (save me) (yeah) (yeah) (save me) (save me)
And know we'll make it through (yeah) (yeah) (save me yeah) (ohh)
The winds, the rain (I'm gonna have to call y'all back)
The storm
The weapons that are formed against us
The trying times
The sleepless nights...
song performed by by R. Kelly
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Faith
Woke up in the morning still I heard this song
Must be somewhere from my dreams, I dont know
Made me feel so good, sun was shining bright
God, I love you that you brought this little song to give me..
Faith
In the morning
I need that faith
To go on, yeah
Give me some faith
Cant get enough of that sweet feeling, give me faith
Oh yeah, I keep the faith
Sweet little girl, lying next to me
Sunlights playing on your face with soft shadows
Youre so beautiful, dream on, dream on, baby
Im gonna wake you up when the time is right
Ill give you..
Faith...
One day I shall be released by my creator
Going home to where I came from long ago
And the big wheel keeps on turning round and round
Into eternity with me to cosmic meadows
I will be there with all my friends..
..in the morning
I need that faith...
song performed by by Alphaville
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Any Faith
Belief it comes in every kind; faith that grips the heart and mind,
But faith’s deeper than belief, like a branch that holds each leaf,
When you’re planted in the Tree, within the Branch of all Eternity,
All leaves never wither or fall, being nourished by the Lord of all.
There’s men with faith, although, are not rooted enough to grow,
Head belief but no spiritual root, within this life, produce no fruit.
And a faith with only head belief, produces withered, falling leaf.
Rooted only in spiritual sand, upon The Rock they cannot stand.
There are beliefs in many a place, having faith less God’s Grace,
In many beliefs, it’s understood, that mankind is basically good,
Men building a faith down here, without that need for Godly fear,
Ignoring Truth wanting His love, thinking all get to Heaven above.
Some with a faith about the earth, see no need for spiritual birth,
Never looking up to The Creator, with no thought about a Savior,
Being stewards of God’s creation, with no need of His salvation.
As saving earth is the urgent need, the only truth men must heed.
Any faith, as noble as it may be, cannot save a soul for Eternity,
If that faith has ignored, the blood atonement of Christ our Lord,
If it fails to embrace this Truth, ahead will only be strong reproof,
As faith in Christ is the only belief, that gives a soul eternal relief.
(Copyright ©08/2008)
Faith of a Nation
An Unchanging Truth that truly changes some,
This is the work of The Spirit, sent by The Son.
The Father, The Son, and The Spirit are three,
And when we see Them as One, we are truly set free.
Free from the path of sin, as unbelievers we had trod,
Freed only through The Grace of an Unchanging God.
Once as a Christian, for we believed in His Name,
Our person and our lives will never be the same,
We strive to be different in what we might do or say,
However, some who have believed have fallen away.
As a Body in this Nation, we have truly been deceived,
And worse yet, by a peoples who do not even believe.
They say God Bless America and United we stand,
But, they fail to see the sin throughout our troubled land.
We are not truly United and divided we will fall,
For as a Nation our eyes are not on The Lord at all!
As a Nation we speak of our power and strength from within,
While we embrace and endorse all kinds of wicked sin.
Although we have Bibles, how much have we learned?
For even The Lord asked 'Will I find Faith when I return? '
(Copyright © 07/2002)
The Song Of The Soldier-Born
Give me the scorn of the stars and a peak defiant;
Wail of the pines and a wind with the shout of a giant;
Night and a trail unknown and a heart reliant.
Give me to live and love in the old, bold fashion;
A soldier's billet at night and a soldier's ration;
A heart that leaps to the fight with a soldier's passion.
For I hold as a simple faith there's no denying:
The trade of a soldier's the only trade worth plying;
The death of a soldier's the only death worth dying.
So let me go and leave your safety behind me;
Go to the spaces of hazard where nothing shall bind me;
Go till the word is War -- and then you will find me.
Then you will call me and claim me because you will need me;
Cheer me and gird me and into the battle-wrath speed me. . . .
And when it's over, spurn me and no longer heed me.
For guile and a purse gold-greased are the arms you carry;
With deeds of paper you fight and with pens you parry;
You call on the hounds of the law your foes to harry.
You with your "Art for its own sake", posing and prinking;
You with your "Live and be merry", eating and drinking;
You with your "Peace at all hazard", from bright blood shrinking.
Fools! I will tell you now: though the red rain patters,
And a million of men go down, it's little it matters. . . .
There's the Flag upflung to the stars, though it streams in tatters.
There's a glory gold never can buy to yearn and to cry for;
There's a hope that's as old as the sky to suffer and sigh for;
There's a faith that out-dazzles the sun to martyr and die for.
Ah no! it's my dream that War will never be ended;
That men will perish like men, and valour be splendid;
That the Flag by the sword will be served, and honour defended.
That the tale of my fights will never be ancient story;
That though my eye may be dim and my beard be hoary,
I'll die as a soldier dies on the Field of Glory.
So give me a strong right arm for a wrong's swift righting;
Stave of a song on my lips as my sword is smiting;
Death in my boots may-be, but fighting, fighting.
poem by Robert William Service
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Never Give Up! Never Give In!
Never give up! Never give in!
Never give way to doubt!
If there's one chance that you can win,
By faith, bring that about!
You're never alone while God looks down,
For He prepares the way!
He has prepared for you a crown
That you will wear one day!
You've spoken prayers and God has heard,
His angels fly above,
For they obey His every word
Who strengthens us with love!
Never give up! Never give in!
The battle is the Lord's!
His Son has conquered death and sin
And grants us His rewards!
So harken well, you child of faith!
Withstand each storm and strife!
For God is able, strong to save
And grants eternal life!
Though lightning strikes, though floods may pour,
Though wars be fought on Earth,
God's love for you grows more and more,
You're priceless, beyond worth!
Never give up! Never give in!
Endure unto the end!
Resist temptation, flee from sin,
Don't compromise or bend!
Be strong as mountains day and night
That stand the test of time,
With God your peace, your joy, your might,
Your destiny sublime...
While there's a sun and moon and stars,
Praise God who put them there!
For He who makes each day to pass,
Hears every single prayer...
Denis Martindale, copyright, June 2011.
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Give Me My Rapture
There are strange things happening every day
I hear music up above my head
Fill me up with your wonder
Give me my rapture today.
Let me contemplate the presence so divine
Let me sing all day and never get tired
Fill me up from your loving cup
Give me my rapture.
Wont you guide me through the dark night of the soul
That I may better understand your way
Let me be just and worthy to receive
All the blessings of the lord into my life.
Let me purify my thoughts and words and deeds
That I may be a vehicle for thee
Let me hold to the truth in the darkest hour
Le me sing to the glory of the lord.
Give me my rapture today.
Repeat...
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To Giovanni Battista Manso, Marquis of Villa. (Translated From Milton)
These verses also to thy praise the Nine
Oh Manso! happy in that theme design,
For, Gallus and Maecenas gone, they see
None such besides, or whom they love as Thee,
And, if my verse may give the meed of fame,
Thine too shall prove an everlasting name.
Already such, it shines in Tasso's page
(For thou wast Tasso's friend) from age to age,
And, next, the Muse consign'd, not unaware
How high the charge, Marini to thy care,
Who, singing, to the nymphs, Adonis' praise,
Boasts thee the patron of his copious lays.
To thee alone the Poet would entrust
His latest vows, to thee alone his dust,
And Thou with punctual piety hast paid
In labour'd brass thy tribute to his shade.
Nor this contented thee-but lest the grave
Should aught absorb of their's, which thou could'st save,
All future ages thou has deign'd to teach
The life, lot, genius, character of each,
Eloquent as the Carian sage, who, true
To his great theme, the Life of Homer drew.
I, therefore, though a stranger youth, who come
Chill'd by rude blasts that freeze my Northern home,
Thee dear to Clio confident proclaim,
And Thine, for Phoebus' sake, a deathless name.
Nor Thou, so kind, wilt view with scornful eye
A Muse scarce rear'd beneath our sullen sky,
Who fears not, indiscrete as she is young,
To seek in Latium hearers of her song.
We too, where Thames with his unsullied waves
The tresses of the blue-hair'd Ocean laves,
Hear oft by night, or, slumb'ring, seem to hear
O'er his wide stream, the swan's voice warbling clear,
And we could boast a Tityrus of yore,
Who trod, a welcome guest, your happy shore.
Yes, dreary as we own our Northern clime,
E'en we to Phoebus raise the polish'd rhyme,
We too serve Phoebus; Phoebus has receiv'd,
(If legends old may claim to be believ'd)
No sordid gifts from us, the golden ear,
The burnish'd apple, ruddiest of the year,
The fragrant crocus, and, to grace his fane,
Fair damsels chosen from the Druid train-
Druids, our native bards in ancient time,
Who Gods and Heroes prais'd in hallow'd rhyme.
Hence, often as the maids of Greece surround
Apollo's shrine with hymns of festive sound,
They name the virgins who arriv'd of yore
With British off'rings on the Delian shore,
Loxo, from Giant Corineus sprung,
Upis, on whose blest lips the Future hung,
And Hecaerge with the golden hair,
All deck'd with Pic'ish hues, and all with bosoms bare.
Thou therefore, happy Sage, whatever clime
Shall ring with Tasso's praise in after-time,
Or with Marini's, shalt be known their friend,
And with an equal flight to fame ascend.
The world shall hear how Phoebus and the Nine
Were inmates, once, and willing guests of thine.
Yet Phoebus, when of old constrain'd to roam
The earth, an exile from his heav'nly home,
Enter'd, no willing guest, Admetus' door,
Though Hercules had enter'd there before.
But gentle Chiron's cave was near, a scene
Of rural peace, clothed with perpetual green,
And thither, oft as respite he requir'd
From rustic clamours loud, the God retir'd.
There, many a time, on Peneus' bank reclin'd
At some oak's root, with ivy thick entwin'd,
Won by his hospitable friend's desire
He sooth'd his pains of exile with the lyre.
Then shook the hills, then trembled Peneus' shore,
Nor Oeta felt his load of forests more,
The upland elms descended to the plain,
And soften'd lynxes wonder'd at the strain.
Well may we think, O dear to all above!
Thy birth distinguish'd by the smile of Jove,
And that Apollo shed his kindliest pow'r,
And Maia's son, on that propitious hour,
Since only minds so born can comprehend
A poet's worth, or yield that worth a friend.
Hence, on thy yet unfaded cheek appears
The ling'ring freshness of thy greener years,
Hence, in thy front, and features, we admire
Nature unwither'd, and a mind entire.
Oh might so true a friend to me belong,
So skill'd to grace the votaries of song,
Should I recall hereafter into rhyme
The kings, and heroes of my native clime,
Arthur the chief, who even now prepares,
In subterraneous being, future wars,
With all his martial Knights, to be restor'd
Each to his seat around the fed'ral board,
And Oh, if spirit fail me not, disperse
Our Saxon plund'rers in triumphant verse!
Then, after all, when, with the Past content,
A life I finish, not in silence spent,
Should he, kind mourner, o'er my deathbed bend
I shall but need to say--'Be yet my friend!'
He, faithful to my dust, with kind concern
Shal1 place it gently in a modest urn;
He too, perhaps, shall bid the marble breathe
To honour me, and with the graceful wreath
Or of Parnassus or the Paphian isle
Shall bind my brows--but I shall rest the while.
Then also, if the fruits of Faith endure,
And Virtue's promis'd recompense be sure,
Borne to those seats, to which the blest aspire
By purity of soul, and virtuous fire,
These rites, as Fate permits, I shall survey
With eyes illumin'd by celestial day,
And, ev'ry cloud from my pure spirit driv'n,
Joy in the bright beatitude of Heav'n!
poem by William Cowper
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The Prince's Day
Though dark are our sorrows, today we'll forget them,
And smile through our tears, like a sunbeam in showers:
There never were hearts, if our rulers would let them,
More form'd to be grateful and blest than ours.
But just when the chain,
Has ceased to pain,
And hope has enwreathed it round with flowers,
There comes a new link,
Our spirits to sink --
Oh! the joy that we taste, like the light of the poles,
Is a flash amid darkness, too brilliant to stay;
But, though 'twere the last little spark in our souls,
We must light it up now, on our Prince's Day.
Contempt on the minion who calls you disloyal!
Though fierce to your foe, to your friends you are true;
And the tribute most high to a head that is royal,
Is love from a heart that loves liberty too.
While cowards, who blight
Your fame, your right,
Would shrink from the blaze of the battle array,
The Standard of Green
In front would be seen --
Oh, my life on your faith! were you summon'd this minute,
You'd cast every bitter remembrance away,
And show what the arm of old Erin has in it,
When roused by the foe, on her Prince's Day.
He loves the Green Isle, and his love is recorded
In hearts which have suffer'd too much to forget;
And hope shall be crown'd, and attachment rewarded,
And Erin's gay jubileee shine out yet.
The gem may be broke
By many a stroke,
But nothing can cloud its native ray;
Each fragment will cast
A light to the last --
And thus, Erin, my country, though broken thou art,
There's lustre wiithin thee, that ne'er will decay;
A spirit which beams through each suffering part,
And now smiles at all pain on the Prince's Day.
poem by Thomas Moore
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The Poet that Prayed
A precious pilgrim poet prayed
Because no words would come,
He asked God if he'd disobeyed,
Because his heart felt numb...
A vision formed within his mind,
Like none he'd seen before,
With white-hot furnace gold refined
God stretched from shore to shore...
Like molten lava from the Lord,
The streets were paved with gold...
As if God's grace had been outpoured
For all men to behold...
As if the old paths must be changed,
Transformed by Jesus Christ
And once the streets were rearranged,
God's might was realised...
Thus those that fled could now return,
When God made all things new,
With wonders they could share and learn,
To know what they must do...
The poet asked the Lord's advice,
Were these streets here on Earth,
Or were they streets in Paradise
And of some future worth?
The Lord replied, the streets were those
Where Gospel truths are taught...
Where love can blossom like the rose,
Through peace that Christ has bought...
His Blood atones for souls set free,
No matter, young or old...
It's by our faith in Calvary,
Saints' streets are paved with gold...
(July 2011)
poem by Denis Martindale
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On The Big Horn
THE years are but half a score,
And the war-whoop sounds no more
With the blast of bugles, where
Straight into a slaughter pen,
With his doomed three hundred men,
Rode the chief with the yellow hair.
O Hampton, down by the sea!
What voice is beseeching thee
For the scholar's lowliest place?
Can. this be the voice of him
Who fought on the Big Horn's rim?
Can this be Rain-in-the-Face?
His war-paint is washed away,
Hls hands have forgotten to slay;
He seeks for himself and his race
The arts of peace and the lore
That give to the skilled hand more
Than the spoils of war and chase.
O chief of the Christ-like school!
Can the zeal of thy heart grow cool
When the victor scarred with fight
Like a child for thy guidance craves,
And the faces of hunters and braves
Are turning to thee for light?
The hatchet lies overgrown
With grass by the Yellowstone,
Wind River and Paw of Bear;
And, in sign that foes are friends,
Each lodge like a peace-pipe sends
Its smoke in the quiet air.
The hands that have done the wrong
To right the wronged are strong,
And the voice of a nation saith:
'Enough of the war of swords,
Enough of the lying words
And shame of a broken faith!'
The hills that have watched afar
The valleys ablaze with war
Shall look on the tasselled corn;
And the dust of the grinded grain,
Instead of the blood of the slain,
Shall sprinkle thy banks, Big Horn!
The Ute and the wandering Crow
Shall know as the white men know,
And fare as the white men fare;
The pale and the red shall be brothers,
One's rights shall be as another's,
Home, School, and House of Prayer!
O mountains that climb to snow,
O river winding below,
Through meadows by war once trod,
O wild, waste lands that await
The harvest exceeding great,
Break forth into praise of God!
poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
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