Nelson’s Lament
Its fate Hardy.
I, the greatest admiral in History
The saviour of my beloved England.
Fated to sail with ignorant seamen
For when I say ‘kismet Hardy’,
I mean fate.
They think I said
‘Kiss me Hardy’
Thus I am consigned in the annuals of history
As a ‘queer boy’.
poem by Khadim Hussain
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The Quarter-Gunner's Yarn
We lay at St. Helen's, and easy she rode
With one anchor catted and fresh-water stowed;
When the barge came alongside like bullocks we roared,
For we knew what we carried with Nelson aboard.
Our Captain was Hardy, the pride of us all,
I'll ask for none better when danger shall call;
He was hardy by nature and Hardy by name,
And soon by his conduct to honour he came.
The third day the Lizard was under our lee,
Where the _Ajax_ and _Thunderer_ joined us at sea,
But what with foul weather and tacking about,
When we sighted the Fleet we were thirteen days out.
The Captains they all came aboard quick enough,
But the news that they brought was as heavy as duff;
So backward an enemy never was seen,
They were harder to come at than Cheeks the Marine.
The lubbers had hare's lugs where seamen have ears,
So we stowed all saluting and smothered our cheers,
And to humour their stomachs and tempt them to dine,
In the offing we showed them but six of the line.
One morning the topmen reported below
The old _Agamemnon_ escaped from the foe.
Says Nelson: 'My lads, there'll be honour for some,
For we're sure of a battle now Berry has come.'
'Up hammocks!' at last cried the bo'sun at dawn;
The guns were cast loose and the tompions drawn;
The gunner was bustling the shot racks to fill,
And 'All hands to quarters!' was piped with a will.
We now saw the enemy bearing ahead,
And to East of them Cape Traflagar it was said,
'Tis a name we remember from father to son,
That the days of old England may never be done.
The _Victory_ led, to her flag it was due,
Tho' the _Temeraires_ thought themselves Admirals too;
But Lord Nelson he hailed them with masterful grace:
'Cap'n Harvey, I'll thank you to keep in your place.'
To begin with we closed the _Bucentaure_ alone,
An eighty-gun ship and their Admiral's own;
We raked her but once, and the rest of the day
Like a hospital hulk on the water she lay.
To our battering next the _Redoutable_ struck,
But her sharpshooters gave us the worst of the luck:
Lord Nelson was wounded, most cruel to tell.
'They've done for me; Hardy!' he cried as he fell.
To the cockpit in silence they carried him past,
And sad were the looks that were after him cast;
His face with a kerchief he tried to conceal,
But we knew him too well from the truck to the keel.
When the Captain reported a victory won,
'Thank God!' he kept saying, 'my duty I've done.'
At last came the moment to kiss him good-bye,
And the Captain for once had the salt in his eye.
'Now anchor, dear Hardy,' the Admiral cried;
But before we could make it he fainted and died.
All night in the trough of the sea we were tossed,
And for want of ground-tackle good prizes were lost.
Then we hauled down the flag, at the fore it was red,
And blue at the mizzen was hoisted instead
By Nelson's famed Captain, the pride of each tar,
Who fought in the _Victory_ off Cape Traflagar.
poem by Sir Henry Newbolt
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I was the last one to screen test for The Hardy Boys. I'd like to play that's not as clean-cut as Frank Hardy. I play him as straight as possible.
quote by Parker Stevenson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My argument is that War makes rattling good history; but Peace is poor reading.
quote by Thomas Hardy
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First Love
YES, I know that you once were my lover,
But that sort of thing has an end,
And though love and its transports are over,
You know you can still be--my friend:
I was young, too, and foolish, remember;
(Did you ever hear John Hardy sing?)
It was then, the fifteenth of November,
And this is the end of the spring!
You complain that you are not well-treated
By my suddenly altering so;
Can I help it?--you're very conceited,
If you think yourself equal to Joe.
Don't kneel at my feet, I implore you;
Don't write on the drawings you bring;
Don't ask me to say, 'I adore you,'
For, indeed, it is now no such thing.
I confess, when at Bognor we parted,
I swore that I worshipped you then--
That I was a maid broken-hearted,
And you the most charming of men.
I confess, when I read your first letter,
I blotted your name with a tear--
But, oh! I was young--knew no better,
Could I tell that I'd meet Hardy here?
How dull you are grown! how you worry,
Repeating my vows to be true--
If I said so, I told you a story,
For I love Hardy better than you!
Yes! my fond heart has fixed on another,
(I sigh so whenever he's gone,)
I shall always love you--as a brother,
But my heart is John Hardy's alone.
poem by Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton
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Twist Of My Fate
As the winds of change course through me,
My fate is always changing
my loved one always see me through a phase
known as intense wrestlemaniac training
as Matt Hardy's Finisher says
my fate is discovered
my truth is revealed
my friends there for when I need them Most
I love all my friends and Loved ones
the whisper in my winds of change
are calling me like a whisper in the wind
and events take an even better turn
when my Destiny time calls
My star will still shine brightly
and My Events predetermined
are like a Twist of Fate
A whole Twist of My Fate
poem by Ashleigh Leona Mellon
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Tempting Fate
thou shalt not tempt fate
you say holier than thou
as though it were
the eleventh commandment
as though you have never
done anything daring in life
no, tempting fate is not
only for the gods or the fool-hardy
now is all we have anyway
let's take the risk and
fall in love if you will
oh, to feel cupid's dart smart
right in the middle of my heart
what could be more exhilirating
than the feeling of falling,
falling, falling so deeply in love
but no, all you want to talk about
is the wretched consequences
of tempting fate
poem by Faith Elizabeth Brigham
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From Down The River
A HALF-BREED, slim, and sallow of face,
Alphonse lies full length on his raft,
The hardy son of a hybrid race.
Lithe and long, with the Indian grace,
Versed in the varied Indian craft,
A half-breed, slim, and sallow of face,
He nurses within mad currents that chase-
The swift, the sluggish-a foreign graft,
This hardy son of a hybrid race.
What southern airs, what snows embrace
Within his breast-soft airs that waft
The half-breed-slim, and sallow of face,
Far from the Gatineau's foaming base!
And what strong potion hath he quaffed,
This hardy son of a hybrid race,
That upon this sun-baked blistered place
He sleeps, with his hand on the burning haft,
A Metis-slim and sallow of face,
The hardy son of a hybrid race!
poem by Susan Frances Harrison
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My heart is in the Church of England but not my mind.
quote by Alister Hardy
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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From 'Down the River
Gatineau Point
A HALF-BREED, slim, and sallow of face,
Alphonse lies full length on his raft,
The hardy son of a hybrid race.
Lithe and long, with the Indian grace,
Versed in the varied Indian craft,
A half-breed, slim, and sallow of face,
He nurses within mad currents that chase–
The swift, the sluggish–a foreign graft,
This hardy son of a hybrid race.
What southern airs, what snows embrace
Within his breast–soft airs that waft
The half-breed–slim, and sallow of face,
Far from the Gatineau's foaming base!
And what strong potion hath he quaffed,
This hardy son of a hybrid race,
That upon this sun-baked blistered place
He sleeps, with his hand on the burning haft,
A Metis–slim and sallow of face,
The hardy son of a hybrid race!
poem by Susie Frances Harrison
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Fate and Destiny
Fate and Destiny
Who can tell us what Fate and Destiny are?
Who can tell us what our Fate is?
Who can tell us what our Destiny is?
Fate. Destiny.
People say we cannot choose our Fate, but we can choose our Destiny.
People say we are Fated or Destined to do/become something.
Fate. Destiny.
Are they different?
Are they the same?
People say we can choose Destiny and we are Fated to do it.
People say that our Destiny is open, but our Fate is sealed.
Are Fate and Destiny the same?
If our Destiny has yet to be chosen but our Fate is sealed, then is not our Destiny already chosen, but unseen to us until the opportune moment?
Fate. Destiny.
When is the opportune moment?
At what point in our life will our Fate and Destiny be revealed?
Or will we realize what our Fate and Destiny are only when it is too late?
Or will we pass our Fate and Destiny without knowing it?
Fate. Destiny.
If someone tells us what our Fate and Destiny are, will we like what we hear?
Or will you strive against the path set before you?
poem by Robert Grimes
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Fortune Fish
Fortune fish from the sea,
Come and bring good luck to me.
I need some luck brought my way,
Swim through the currents to me today.
Fish of fate and destiny,
I ask you to hear my plea.
Fortune fish from the sea,
Come and bring good luck to me.
Fish of kismet please swim near,
I wish for positive karma here.
Fortune fish from the sea,
Come and bring good luck to me.
poem by Eileen Hardy
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A New Day Dawning
aaa new day dawning
i wake up in the morning to see the
beginning of a new day dawning
some days are bright while others are dull
but regardless of the weather
i thank god for such a sight
the daylight penetrates the darkness
and soon it will be light
birds begin chirping in a nearby tree
while others are soring over the sea
while looking at the morning sky
i see the sun penetrating the fog and dew
a duck quakes in the cove
i see the fog lifting off the water
and the water begins to ripple from the morning
breeze
i am content and thank god for giving me the
pleasure of seeing a new day dawning
author hewitt hardy april 5 2004
poem by Hewitt Hardy
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Epigram: To Christina, Queen Of Sweden, With Cromwell's Picture
Christina, maiden of heroic mien!
Star of the North! of northern stars the queen!
Behold, what wrinkles I have earn'd, and how
The iron cask still chafes my vet'ran brow,
While following fate's dark footsteps, I fulfill
The dictates of a hardy people's will.
But soften'd, in thy sight, my looks appear,
Not to all Queens or Kings alike severe.
poem by by unknown author, translated by William Cowper
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To Our Son With Love
on august 26th in the year ninteen fifty three
god and my wife gave a son to me
a special son we knew from the start
and from that day on joy has filled my heart
our teachings about values, honesty and life
were installed but mostly by my wife
our son was a blessing
a gift from above
his special charm, thoughfulness
and especially his love
his efforts and determation
to obtain his goal
we watched with pride
as they did unfold
now as a man and a father himself
his wife and children
are more precious than wealth
so remember our son
as you open each new door
as much as we love you
GOD loves you more
author hewitt hardy
poem by Hewitt Hardy
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The Mark A Good Teacher Makes
That little cherub sitting there
With eager eyes and expectant air
Who knows what he may become...
Perhaps a doctor, lawyer, preacher
Policeman, executive, senator or 'rep'
He could blossom into another good teacher.
He might even become our President
Or be well-equipped for other walks in life.
That little one may prove to be
History's essential vital link
Because a good teacher made him-- think!
poem by Julia Irene Peterson Hardy
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Ab Barathro Meae Animae V (Death of a Destiny)
horrid Fates!
i Fated fear that
beholding my Fate's
hapless Fate
is my eternal Fate.
poem by Ebone' Ingram
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Black History Month
In January...
There they are making history.
In February...
There they are making history.
In March...
There they are making history.
In April...
There they are making history.
In May...
There they are making history.
In June...
There they are making history.
In July...
There they are making history.
In August...
There they are making history.
In September...
There they are making history.
In October...
There they are making history.
In November...
There they are making history.
In December...
There they are making history.
But...
It's nice to know
The shortest month of the year
Was chosen to celebrate
The great deeds of African-Americans!
However...
It is those LEAP YEARS,
That really have the blacks jumping for joy!
Note: 'Black History Month' along with other
works of interest can be found in...
*'MindPrints from Untouched Places-VOL I'*
~Now available online at a PC near you~
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Mute Opinion
I
I traversed a dominion
Whose spokesmen spake out strong
Their purpose and opinion
Through pulpit, press, and song.
I scarce had means to note there
A large-eyed few, and dumb,
Who thought not as those thought there
That stirred the heat and hum.
II
When, grown a Shade, beholding
That land in lifetime trode,
To learn if its unfolding
Fulfilled its clamoured code,
I saw, in web unbroken,
Its history outwrought
Not as the loud had spoken,
But as the mute had thought.
poem by Thomas Hardy
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History why do we care
History
a famous person dies
History
a war rages
History
a new invention
History
a building opens
History
what happens if something happens to me
is that history?
no....
So why do we care.....
poem by Andrea Thepoet
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The history of England, who has always dealt most harshly with her vanquished foe in the few European wars in which she has taken part in modern times, gives us Germans an idea of the fate in store for us if defeated.
quote by Bernhard von Bulow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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