|
Main
- books.jibble.org
My Books
- IRC Hacks
Misc. Articles
- Meaning of Jibble
- M4 Su Doku
- Computer Scrapbooking
- Setting up Java
- Bootable Java
- Cookies in Java
- Dynamic Graphs
- Social Shakespeare
External Links
- Paul Mutton
- Jibble Photo Gallery
- Jibble Forums
- Google Landmarks
- Jibble Shop
- Free Books
- Intershot Ltd
|
books.jibble.org
Previous Page
| Next Page
Page 17
Not since God's sword was planted
To guard life's heavenly tree,
Has ever blade been granted,
Like that bestowed on thee!
To pierce me with the steel I gave
To guard mine honor's shrine,
Not since Iscariot lived and died,
Was treason like to thine!
Give back the sword! and sever
Our strong and mighty tie!
We part, and part forever,
To conquer or to die!
In sorrow, not in anger,
I speak the word, "We part!"
For I leave thee to thy death-bed,
And I leave thee to thy heart!
Richmond Whig.
Nay, Keep the Sword.
By Carrie Clifford.
Nay, keep the sword which once we gave,
A token of our trust in thee;
The steel is true, the blade is keen--
False as thou art it cannot be.
We hailed thee as our glorious chief,
With laurel-wreaths we bound thy brow;
Thy name then thrilled from tongue to tongue:
In whispers hushed we breathe it now.
Yes, keep it till thy dying day;
Momentous ever let it be,
Of a great treasure once possessed--
A people's love now lost to thee.
Thy mother will not bow her head;
She bares her bosom to thee now;
But may the bright steel fail to wound--
It is more merciful than thou.
And ere thou strik'st the fatal blow,
Thousands of sons of this fair land
Will rise, and, in their anger just,
Will stay the rash act of thy hand.
And when in terror thou shalt hear
Thy murderous deeds of vengeance cry
And feel the weight of thy great crime,
Then fall upon thy sword and die.
Those aged locks I'll not reproach,
Although upon a traitor's brow;
We've looked with reverence on them once,
We'll try and not revile them now.
But her true sons and daughters pray,
That ere thy day of reckoning be,
Thy ingrate heart may feel the pain
To know thy mother once more free.
Coercion: A Poem for Then and Now.
By John R. Thompson, of Virginia.
Who talks of coercion? who dares to deny
A resolute people the right to be free?
Let him blot out forever one star from the sky,
Or curb with his fetter the wave of the sea!
Previous Page
| Next Page
|
|