The Ancient Banner (Anonymous Americas Poems)
In boundless mercy, the Redeemer left,The bosom of his Father, and assumedA servant's form, though he had reigned a king,In ...
In boundless mercy, the Redeemer left,The bosom of his Father, and assumedA servant's form, though he had reigned a king,In ...
Oh! he's nothing but a soldier,But he's coming here tonight,For I saw him pass this morning,With his uniform so bright.He ...
I. O wild kaleidoscopic panorama of jaculatory arms and legs. The twisting, twining, turning, tussling, throwing, thrusting, throttling, tugging, thumping, the tightening thews. The tearing of tangled trousers, the jut of giant calves protuberant. The wriggleness, the wormlike, snaky movement and life of it; The insertion of strong men in the mud, the wallowing, the stamping with thick shoes; The rowdyism, and élan, the slugging and scraping, the cowboy Homeric ferocity. (Ah, well kicked, red legs! Hit her up, you muddy little hero, you!) The bleeding noses, the shins, the knuckles abraded: That's the way to make men! Go it, you border ruffians, I like ye.II. Only two sorts of men are any good, I wouldn't give a cotton hat for no other — The Poet and the Plug Ugly. They are picturesque. O, but ain't they? These college chaps, these bouncing fighters from M'Gill and Toronto, Are all right. I must have a fighter, a bully, somewhat of a desperado; Of course, I prefer them raw, uneducated, unspoiled by book rot; I reckon these young fellows, these howling Kickapoos of the puddle, these boys, Have been uneducated to an undemocratic and feudal-aristocratic extent; Lord! how they can kick, though! Another man slugged there!III. Unnumbered festoons of pretty Canadian girls, I salute you; Howl away, you non-playing encouragers of the kickers! Rah, Rah, Rah, Rah, Rah, Rah, M'Gill! Rah, Rah, Rah, Sis, Boom, Toronto! Lusty-throated give it! O, wild, tumultuous, multitudinous shindy. Well, this is the boss; This is worth coming twenty miles to see. Personally, I haven't had so much fun since I was vaccinated. I wonder if the Doctor spectates it. Here is something beyond his plesiosauri. Pure physical glow and exultation this of abundantest muscle: I wish John Sullivan were here.IV. O, the kicking, stamping, punching, the gore and the glory of battle! Kick, kick, kick, kick, kick, kick. Will you kick! You kickers, scoop up the mud, steam plough the field, Fall all over yourselves, squirm out! Look at that pile-driver of a full-back there! Run, leg it, hang on to the ball; say, you big chump, don't you kill that little chap When you are about it. Well, I'd like to know what a touch down is, then? Draw? Where's your draw? Yer lie!(Anonymous Americas)
O Waly, waly, up the bank, O wary, waly, doun the brae, And waly, waly, yon burn-side, Where I and my love wer wont to gae! I lean'd my back unto an aik, I thocht it was a trustie tree, But first it bow'd and syne it brak',— Sae my true love did lichtlie me. O waly, waly, but love be bonnie A little time while it is new! But when its auld it waxeth cauld, And fadeth awa' like the morning dew. O wherefore should I busk my heid, Or wherefore should I kame my hair? For my true love has me forsook, And says he'll never lo'e me mair. Noo Arthur's seat sall be my bed. The sheets sall neir be press'd by me; Saint Anton's well sall be my drink; Since my true love's forsaken me. Martinmas wind, when wilt thou blaw, And shake the green leaves off the tree? O gentle death, when wilt thou come? For of my life I am wearie. 'Tis not the frost that freezes fell, Nor blawing-snaw's inclemencie, 'Tis not sic cauld that makes me cry; But my love's heart grown cauld to me. Whan we cam' in by Glasgow toun, We were a comely sicht to see; My love was clad in the black velvet, An' I mysel' in cramasie. But had I wist before I kiss'd That love had been so ill to win, I'd lock'd my heart in a case o' goud, And pinn'd it wi' a siller pin. Oh, oh! if my young babe were born, And set upon the nurse's knee; And I mysel' were dead and gane, And the green grass growing over me!(Anonymous Americas)
Now God alone that made all things, Heaven and earth and all that's in, The ships ...
How sweet the chime of the Sabbath bells!Each one its creed in music tellsIn tones that float upon the airAs ...
A barefooted child on the crossing,Sweeping the mud away,A lady in silks and diamonds,Proud of the vain display;A beggar blind ...
There was a rose-bush in a garden growing,Its tender leaves unfolding day by day;The sun looked-on, and his down-goingLeft it ...
Two pictures hung on the dingy wallof a grand old Florentine hall-One was a child of beauty rareWith a cherub ...
Was it a lie that they told me,Was it a pitiless hoax?A sop for my soul and its longingOnly to ...
Five Zouaves killed! — one thousand in all — Five from a thousand? Then he may be one.If in ...
Is it parting with the roundnessOf the smoothly moulded cheek?Is it losing from the dimplesHalf the flashing joy they speak?Is ...
Up in early morning light,Sweeping, dusting, "setting right,"Oiling all the household springs,Sewing buttons, tying strings,Telling Bridget what to do,Mending rips ...
The supper is over, the hearth is swept,And in the wood-fire's glowThe children cluster to hear a taleOf that time ...
Nothing at all in the paper today!Only a murder somewhere or other;A girl who has put her child away,Not being ...
Wild and fearful in his cavernHid the naked troglodyte,And the homeless nomad wanderedLaying waste the fertile plain.Menacing with spear and ...
Rebels! 't is a holy name! The name our fathers bore,When battling in the cause of Right,Against the tyrant ...
In the best chamber of the house,Shut up in dim, uncertain light,There stood an antique chest of drawers,Of foreign wood, ...
You go, my son, to the battle-field To repel the invading foe; 'Mid its fiercest conflicts never yield Till death ...
If all our life were one broad glareOf sunlight, clear, unclouded;If all our path were smooth and fair,By no soft ...
This song was composed while George Latimer, the fugitive slave, wasconfined in Leverett Street Jail, Boston, expecting to be carried ...
Eternal Time, that wastest without waste, That art and art not, diest, and livest still; Most slow ...
Into all lives some rain must fall,Into all eyes some tear-drops start,Whether they fall as gentle shower,Or fall like fire ...
When you get what you want in your struggle for selfand the world makes you king for a dayJust go ...
Is there a man that never sighedTo set the prisoner free?Is there a man that never prizedThe sweets of liberty?Then ...
Upon the barren sand,The lonely captive stood:Around him came, with bow and brand,The red men of the wood.Like one of ...
No one can know the potential,Of a life that is committed to win;With courage - the challenge it faces,To achieve ...
They sit in the winter gloaming,And the fire burns bright between;One has passed seventy summers,And the other just seventeen.They rest ...
My life is but a weaving, between my God and me,I do not choose the colors, He worketh steadily.Ofttimes he ...
'Twas but a breath--And yet the fair, good name was wilted;And friends once fond grew cold and stilted,And life was ...
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