Our Mother Pocahontas
(Note: — Pocahontas is buried at Gravesend, England.)
"Pocahontas' body, lovely as a poplar, sweet as a red haw in November or a pawpaw in May — did she wonder? does she remember — in the dust — in the cool tombs?"
CARL SANDBURG.
I
Powhatan was conqueror,
Powhatan was emperor.
He was akin to wolf and bee,
Brother of the hickory tree.
Son of the red lightning stroke
And the lightning-shivered oak.
His panther-grace bloomed in the maid
Who laughed among the winds and played
In excellence of savage pride,
Wooing the forest, open-eyed,
In the springtime,
In Virginia,
Our Mother, Pocahontas.
Her skin was rosy copper-red.
And high she held her beauteous head.
Her step was like a rustling leaf:
Her heart a nest, untouched of grief.
She dreamed of sons like Powhatan,
And through her blood the lightning ran.
Love-cries with the birds she sung,
Birdlike
In the grape-vine swung.
The Forest, arching low and wide
Gloried in its Indian bride.
Rolfe, that dim adventurer
Had not come a courtier.
John Rolfe is not our ancestor.
We rise from out the soul of her
Held in native wonderland,
While the sun's rays kissed her hand,
In the springtime,
In Virginia,
Our Mother, Pocahontas.
II
She heard the forest talking,
Across the sea came walking,
And traced the paths of Daniel Boone,
Then westward chased the painted moon.
She passed with wild young feet
On to Kansas wheat,
On to the miners' west,
The echoing cañons' guest,
Then the Pacific sand,
Waking,
Thrilling,
The midnight land....
On Adams street and Jefferson —
Flames coming up from the ground!
On Jackson street and Washington —
Flames coming up from the ground!
And why, until the dawning sun
Are flames coming up from the ground?
Because, through drowsy Springfield sped
This red-skin queen, with feathered head,
With winds and stars, that pay her court
And leaping beasts, that make her sport;
Because, gray Europe's rags august
She tramples in the dust;
Because we are her fields of corn;
Because our fires are all reborn
From her bosom's deathless embers,
Flaming
As she remembers
The springtime
And Virginia,
Our Mother, Pocahontas.
III
We here renounce our Saxon blood.
Tomorrow's hopes, an April flood
Come roaring in. The newest race
Is born of her resilient grace.
We here renounce our Teuton pride:
Our Norse and Slavic boasts have died:
Italian dreams are swept away,
And Celtic feuds are lost today....
She sings of lilacs, maples, wheat,
Her own soil sings beneath her feet,
Of springtime
And Virginia,
Our Mother, Pocahontas.
poem by Vachel Lindsay
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Related quotes
Cool Tombs
When Abraham Lincoln was shoveled into the tombs he forgot
the copperheads and the assassin . . . in the dust, in the
cool tombs.
And Ulysses Grant lost all thought of con men and Wall Street,
cash and collateral turned ashes . . . in the dust, in the
cool tombs.
Pocahontas' body, lovely as a poplar, sweet as a red haw in
November or a pawpaw in May, did she wonder? does she
remember? . . . in the dust, in the cool tombs?
Take any streetful of people buying clothes and groceries,
cheering a hero or throwing confetti and blowing tin
horns . . . tell me if the lovers are losers . . . tell me if any
get more than the lovers . . . in the dust . . . in the cool
tombs.
poem by Carl Sandburg
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Pocahontas
Aurora borealis
The icy sky at night
Paddles cut the water
In a long and hurried flight
From the white man to the fields of green
And the homeland weve never seen.
They killed us in our tepee
And they cut our women down
They might have left some babies
Cryin on the ground
But the firesticks and the wagons come
And the night falls on the setting sun.
They massacred the buffalo
Kitty corner from the bank
The taxis run across my feet
And my eyes have turned to blanks
In my little box at the top of the stairs
With my indian rug and a pipe to share.
I wish a was a trapper
I would give thousand pelts
To sleep with pocahontas
And find out how she felt
In the mornin on the fields of green
In the homeland weve never seen.
And maybe marlon brando
Will be there by the fire
Well sit and talk of hollywood
And the good things there for hire
And the astrodome and the first tepee
Marlon brando, pocahontas and me
Marlon brando, pocahontas and me
Pocahontas.
song performed by by Neil Young
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Pocahontas
Aurora borealis
The icy sky at night
Our paddles break the water
In a long and hurried flight
From the white man and the fields of green
And the homeland weve never seen
They killed us in our tepee
They cut our women down
They might have left some babies
Cryin on the ground
But the big guns and the wagon wheels come
Yes, and the night falls on the setting sun
They massacred the buffalo
Kitty corner from the bank
The taxis run across my feet
And my eyes have turned to blanks
In my little room at the top of the stairs
With an indian rug and a pipe to share
I wish a was a trapper
I would give thousand pelts
To sleep with pocahontas
And to find out how she felt
In the morning on the fields of green
In the homeland weve never seen
Yes and maybe marlon brando
Will be there by the fire
Well sit and talk of hollywood
And the good things there for hire
And the astrodome and the first tepee
Marlon brando, pocahontas and me
Marlon brando, pocahontas and me
Pocahontas
song performed by by Everclear
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Pocahontas was the reason the Virginia colony didn't disappear, unlike some earlier attempts.
quote by Brooks Robinson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Home Thoughts from Abroad
April in England–daffodils are growing
By every wayside, golden, tall and fair;
April–and all the little winds are blowing
The scents of springtime through the sunny air.
April in England–God, that we were there!
April in England–and her sons are lying
On these red fields, and dreaming of her shore;
April–we hear the thrushes' songs replying
Each unto each, above the cannons' roar;
April in England–shall we see it more?
April in England–there's the cuckoo calling
Down in her meadows where the cowslip gleams;
April–and little showers are softly falling,
Dimpling the surface of her babbling streams;
April in England–how the shrapnel screams!
April in England–blood and dust and smother,
Screaming of horses, men in agony.
April–full many of thy sons, O Mother,
Never again those dewy dawns shall see.
April in England–God, keep England free!
poem by Norah M. Holland
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To My Mother
Because I feel that, in the Heavens above,
The angels, whispering to one another,
Can find, among their burning terms of love,
None so devotional as that of "Mother,"
Therefore by that dear name I long have called you-
You who are more than mother unto me,
And fill my heart of hearts, where Death installed you
In setting my Virginia's spirit free.
My mother- my own mother, who died early,
Was but the mother of myself; but you
Are mother to the one I loved so dearly,
And thus are dearer than the mother I knew
By that infinity with which my wife
Was dearer to my soul than its soul-life.
poem by Edgar Allan Poe
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It Isn't About...
During the days when the snow was two feet high outside, and
My mother baked bread every Sunday morning-
I became Pocahontas beneath the living room's card table and
I laughed with my father, as I sat upon his knee-
I hadn't a care in the world although
I played for hours in solitude-
However to me solitude was ecstasy and only I knew that
I wasn't truly alone- as
I was surrounded by all of my friends as we played-
Although these people only I could see and,
Their voices only I could hear-
Lost inside this world of my fantasies-
I couldn't have been more content-
Many people were and shall always be mistaken,
Believing that happiness is being born with many gifts about them-
Having everything to own for themselves- and
Having plenty of money and the means to travel all over the world around them.
I so truly believe that this is not what life is all about-
Being popular and rich, surrounded by luxuries,
Having a lot of money to spend and to live beneath a sky that never rains-
I was still quite young when I knew inside of the depths of my soul that
Life is not about money or material treasures- Life isn't about gold and diamonds-
Rain is what makes trees and flowers grow- and
True bliss and happiness comes from inside.
Nearly half a century has passed since
I was just a child playing with my imaginary circle of friends, though
I still hear the voices unheard by others and
I know that I am loved by many others but not by all-
But I have accepted the person I am inside, and
That has brought peace of mind surging from within.
The days of baking bread and sitting upon my father's knees are over and
I am a different sort of Pocahontas now- still hiding and finding
My own place amidst the loveliness and privacy of nature!
Life is not about superficiality of material wealth-
Life is about love of and being able to accept what is to be and
Ability to accept who we truly are inside and although nature is
Part of the world outside- it stimulates pure and natural splendor from
Inside of our spirits and from our souls-I have learned this lesson
From living my own life for more than half of a century now, from letting
Nature and assurance enter that door to my heart and
To inspire that special confidence and strength arising from within-
poem by Claudia Krizay
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Springtime Love # 2
Cold winds of winter
have blown far away-
Springtime is now time
and love is today.
Springtime is our time
when mating birds sing-
Our time is love time
and love time is spring
Springtime-
Once in a lifetime
spring comes,
blossoms and then
springtime
moves on forever.
No second spring again.
Kisses and blossoms
and sweet birds of May,
they're to remember
when spring slips away.
poem by Daniel Artemas Harmon
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Leave Virginia Alone
Well I've Seen her
Down the alley
And over the hill
To steel her away
She was as hot as
Georgia asphalt
When the aircraft came
To adore her brain
So leave Virginia alone
Leave Virginia alone
She's not like you
And me
She's not like you
And me
You should've seen her
Back in the city
Poetry and jewels
Broke all the rules
She was as high as
A Georgia palm tree
*So Leave Virginia alone
Leave Virginia alone
She's not like you
And me
She's not like you
And me
Some sunny day
When the h... of times have
Gone farewell
You'll understand
Why it was so hard
To run away
To run away
She's a loser
She's a forgiver
She still finds good
When no one could
You want her
More than money
Cadillac can rust
Diamond and dust
(*Repeat)
Ah, yeah
Leave Virginia alone
Leave Virginia alone
She's not like you
And me
She's not like you
And me
Ah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah ,...
La, la, la, leave her alone
Oh, Virginia
Oh, Virginia
Leave her alone
song performed by by Rod Stewart
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Springtime Magic
There is so much magic in springtime
As our landscape begins to wake up
Much like a warm delicious coffee
That we sip from a special coffee cup
Little sprouts pop out of the ground
Oh, what did I plant last year?
Often we get a big surprise and
It's so pretty that we may shed a tear
Trees that were naked and quite ugly
Begin to have a fuzzy green
For leaf buds are really excited
To open in springtime it seems
I love this time of year and without it
It would be ever so tragic
Nothing makes me happier than
Mother Nature's Springtime Magic!
poem by Marilyn Lott
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Pocahontas
Irene Bedard, Judy Kuhn, Mel Gibson, David Ogden Stiers, John Kassir
from Pocahontas (1995)
Submitted by anonym
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The Black Wolf (The Song of Merlin)
The black wolf howls
as dusk prowls among the shadows.
Freed from the stones of ancient altars
his haunting song drifts above the willows.
As light retreats, the wolf entreats
the spirit of the moon to come forth
and shed her beams upon the dreams
of night’s primeval sleep.
Close to the flames of my evening fire
I sit entranced by the choir of spectral hosts,
as other voices repeat the sound
that shakes the ground like thunder;
and yet, in spite of the holocaust,
I sense some purpose I once lost to my vanity.
Hope swells within my soul
that like the wolf I might find
the muse of lyric poetry.
Here in the forest beneath the sky
I dream of the fires
my mother set in the apple groves.
From dusk to dawn with lilting voice
she told the ancient stories.
She spoke in time of the hearth of heaven
and of the starry circle dance.
She sang to the earth; she sang to the trees.
She sang to the night with love.
Nature’s soul possessed the smoke
that was my mother’s misty cape;
and now the wolf in my mother’s tongue
sings the same celestial song.
Copyright © 1993 John M. Marshall
poem by John M. Marshall
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Enough Of Me
We were all wounded in some domestic war
I found you to settle my score
You looked like father
You felt like mother
My mind told my heart
There is no other
And I gave you my soul
And every ounce of control
I gave you my skin
And my original sin
I gave you my pride and my side
oh my pride
Ain't that enough
I turned your dreams into lightning
Ain't that enough
I held the world back for you
Ain't that enough
I loved you past the point of dying
Ain't that enough of me for you
I was so sure one and one gave you one
My noisy love is coming undone
Now you leave like father
Disappointed like mother
And I know in my heart
There is no other
And I gave you my soul
And every ounce of control
And I gave you my shame
And my eternal flame
And I gave you my need and my seed Oh my need
Why can't you hold on
song performed by by Melissa Etheridge
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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We are Seven
--------A Simple Child,
That lightly draws its breath,
And feels its life in every limb,
What should it know of death?
I met a little cottage Girl:
She was eight years old, she said;
Her hair was thick with many a curl
That clustered round her head.
She had a rustic, woodland air,
And she was wildly clad:
Her eyes were fair, and very fair;
--Her beauty made me glad.
"Sisters and brothers, little Maid,
How many may you be?"
"How many? Seven in all," she said
And wondering looked at me.
"And where are they? I pray you tell."
She answered, "Seven are we;
And two of us at Conway dwell,
And two are gone to sea.
"Two of us in the church-yard lie,
My sister and my brother;
And, in the church-yard cottage, I
Dwell near them with my mother."
"You say that two at Conway dwell,
And two are gone to sea,
Yet ye are seven!--I pray you tell,
Sweet Maid, how this may be."
Then did the little Maid reply,
"Seven boys and girls are we;
Two of us in the church-yard lie,
Beneath the church-yard tree."
"You run about, my little Maid,
Your limbs they are alive;
If two are in the church-yard laid,
Then ye are only five."
"Their graves are green, they may be seen,"
The little Maid replied,
"Twelve steps or more from my mother's door,
And they are side by side.
"My stockings there I often knit,
My kerchief there I hem;
And there upon the ground I sit,
And sing a song to them.
"And often after sunset, Sir,
When it is light and fair,
I take my little porringer,
And eat my supper there.
"The first that died was sister Jane;
In bed she moaning lay,
Till God released her of her pain;
And then she went away.
"So in the church-yard she was laid;
And, when the grass was dry,
Together round her grave we played,
My brother John and I.
"And when the ground was white with snow,
And I could run and slide,
My brother John was forced to go,
And he lies by her side."
"How many are you, then," said I,
"If they two are in heaven?"
Quick was the little Maid's reply,
"O Master! we are seven."
"But they are dead; those two are dead!
Their spirits are in heaven!"
'Twas throwing words away; for still
The little Maid would have her will,
And said, "Nay, we are seven!"
poem by William Wordsworth
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The Farewell
Of A Virginia Slave Mother To Her Daughters Sold Into Southern Bondage
Gone, gone, -- sold and gone
To the rice-swamp dank and lone.
Where the slave-whip ceaseless swings
Where the noisome insect stings
Where the fever demon strews
Poison with the falling dews
Where the sickly sunbeams glare
Through the hot and misty air;
Gone, gone, -- sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone,
From Virginia's hills and waters;
Woe is me, my stolen daughters!
Gone, gone, -- sold and gone
To the rice-swamp dank and lone
There no mother's eye is near them,
There no mother's ear can hear them;
Never, when the torturing lash
Seams their back with many a gash
Shall a mother's kindness bless them
Or a mother's arms caress them.
Gone, gone, -- sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone,
From Virginia's hills and waters;
Woe is me, my stolen daughters!
Gone, gone, -- sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone,
Oh, when weary, sad, and slow,
From the fields at night they go
Faint with toil, and racked with pain
To their cheerless homes again,
There no brother's voice shall greet them
There no father's welcome meet them.
Gone, gone, -- sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone,
From Virginia's hills and waters;
Woe is me, my stolen daughters!
Gone, gone, -- sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone
From the tree whose shadow lay
On their childhood's place of play;
From the cool sprmg where they drank;
Rock, and hill, and rivulet bank;
From the solemn house of prayer,
And the holy counsels there;
Gone, gone, -- sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone,
From Virginia's hills and waters;
Woe is me, my stolen daughters!
Gone, gone, -- sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone;
Toiling through the weary day,
And at night the spoiler's prey.
Oh, that they had earlier died,
Sleeping calmly, side by side,
Where the tyrant's power is o'er
And the fetter galls no more!
Gone, gone, -- sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone;
From Virginia's hills and waters
Woe is me, my stolen daughters!
Gone, gone, -- sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone;
By the holy love He beareth;
By the bruised reed He spareth;
Oh, may He, to whom alone
All their cruel wrongs are known,
Still their hope and refuge prove,
With a more than mother's love.
Gone, gone, -- sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone,
From Virginia's hills and waters;
Woe is me, my stolen daughters!
poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
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The Farewell of a Virginia Slave Mother
Of A Virginia Slave Mother To Her Daughters Sold Into Southern Bondage
Gone, gone, - sold and gone
To the rice-swamp dank and lone.
Where the slave-whip ceaseless swings
Where the noisome insect stings
Where the fever demon strews
Poison with the falling dews
Where the sickly sunbeams glare
Through the hot and misty air;
Gone, gone, - sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone,
From Virginia's hills and waters;
Woe is me, my stolen daughters!
Gone, gone, - sold and gone
To the rice-swamp dank and lone
There no mother's eye is near them,
There no mother's ear can hear them;
Never, when the torturing lash
Seams their back with many a gash
Shall a mother's kindness bless them
Or a mother's arms caress them.
Gone, gone, - sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone,
From Virginia's hills and waters;
Woe is me, my stolen daughters!
Gone, gone, - sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone,
Oh, when weary, sad, and slow,
From the fields at night they go
Faint with toil, and racked with pain
To their cheerless homes again,
There no brother's voice shall greet them
There no father's welcome meet them.
Gone, gone, - sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone,
From Virginia's hills and waters;
Woe is me, my stolen daughters!
Gone, gone, - sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone
From the tree whose shadow lay
On their childhood's place of play;
From the cool spring where they drank;
Rock, and hill, and rivulet bank;
From the solemn house of prayer,
And the holy counsels there;
Gone, gone, - sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone,
From Virginia's hills and waters;
Woe is me, my stolen daughters!
Gone, gone, - sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone;
Toiling through the weary day,
And at night the spoiler's prey.
Oh, that they had earlier died,
Sleeping calmly, side by side,
Where the tyrant's power is o'er
And the fetter galls no more!
Gone, gone, - sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone;
From Virginia's hills and waters
Woe is me, my stolen daughters!
Gone, gone, - sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone;
By the holy love He beareth;
By the bruised reed He spareth;
Oh, may He, to whom alone
All their cruel wrongs are known,
Still their hope and refuge prove,
With a more than mother's love.
Gone, gone, - sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone,
From Virginia's hills and waters;
Woe is me, my stolen daughters!
poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sleep My Darling Mother
Sleep my darling Mother
for we know you'll soon depart
May your slumber be a blissful one
may comfort fill your heart.
Sleep my precious Mother
for His Grace has set you free
May your respite be a peaceful one
for all eternity.
Sleep my lovely Mother
even though I'll miss you so
May your journey be a good one
each and every place you go.
Sleep my pretty Mother
even though it breaks my heart
May we both look to the future
when we'll never have to part.
Sleep my only Mother
in the warmth of His Sweet Light
May you know how much I miss you
how I love you Mom, goodnight.
For my beautiful Mother Virginia. 1943~2008
I miss you Mommy.
poem by Marea Johnson
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A Christmas To Remember
Youve made this a christmas to remember
Springtime feelins in the middle of december
Strangers meet and they willingly surrender
Oh! what a christmas to remember
Almost went to aspen but something told me no
I considered mammoth but there wasnt enough snow
And I even thought of gatlinburg but that seemed so far to go
So I headed up to tahoe for a christmas on the slopes
And I had fantasized about christmas in this way
Curled up by a fireplace in a tahoe ski chalet
With a fast talking lover and some slow burning wood
But even in my wildest dreams it never got this good and
Youve made this a christmas to remember
Springtime feelins in the middle of december
Change the radio and Ill turn the lights down dimmer
Oh! what a christmas to remember
Strangers when we met, lovers as we leave
Christmas to remember, too good to believe
Dont know how or when, but I know well meet again
Well come blowin back to somewhere like some wild restless winters wind
And youve made this a christmas to remember
Springtime feelins in the middle of december
Neath the mistletoe you kissed me warm and tender
Oh! what a christmas to remember
We loved and laughed and played and joked
Sang christmas songs and talked to folks
Sleighed the fields and skied the slopes
Then to the lodge for dinner
But now its time for us to go
As our hearts melt like chimney snow
Theres just one thing I want to know
Can we do this next winter
Oh! what a christmas to remember
Youve made this a christmas to remember
Springtime feelins in the middle of december
Though the fire is hot, well just have to let it simmer
Oh! what a christmas to remember
Youve made this a christmas to remember
Springtime feelins in the middle of december
Though its cold outside well just stroke the burning embers
Oh! what a christmas to remember
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Virginia
(jesse valenzuela)
Its like trying to light a cigarette
When the matches you got are soaking wet
Tallest buildings they got are bound to fall
When its coming down like a wrecking ball
Slow down, virginia
Dont make me wait
Slow down, virginia
Dont make me wait
Virginia
Its everything thats cool rolled into one
Everything thats not is left alone
You can hear it ring from near and far
You can hear it scream like a fire alarm
Slow down, virginia
Dont make me wait
Slow down, virginia
Dont make me wait
Virginia
Sometimes it sounds like shes been crying
But when she lights, this whole dump is...
Its everything thats cool rolled into one
Everything thats not is left alone
You can hear it ring from near and far
You can hear it scream like a fire alarm
Slow down, virginia...
song performed by by Gin Blossoms
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sweet Virginia
I couldn't tell
The weight of the world
was on your shoulders
Couldn't tell you were unhappy,
you were unwell
I go along like nothing is wrong
no need to worry
Too late to feel sorrow
upon borrowed time
Then now there's no answers
no easy way out
take it all if you want
take it all if you want
if you know how to run
Sweet Virginia, you should run
if you know how to play
Sweet Virginia, you should play
if you know how to say
Sweet Virginia, you should say
if you know how to be
be without me, you should be
you should be
I couldn't see
it seems I don't learn or get the message
don't know you you carry it all by yourself
How can it be
it doesn't belong, it's so not funny
this vintage of violence again on parade
and now there's no wonder
no shelter from shame
be alone if you want
be alone if you want
if you know how to run
Sweet Virginia, you should run
if you know how to play
Sweet Virginia, you should play
if you know how to say
Sweet Virginia, you should say
if you know how to be
be without me, you should be
you should be
song performed by by Gomez
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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