Written by
Henry David Thoreau |
Whate'er we leave to God, God does,
And blesses us;
The work we choose should be our own,
God leaves alone.
If with light head erect I sing,
Though all the Muses lend their force,
From my poor love of anything,
The verse is weak and shallow as its source.
But if with bended neck I grope
Listening behind me for my wit,
With faith superior to hope,
More anxious to keep back than forward it;
Making my soul accomplice there
Unto the flame my heart hath lit,
Then will the verse forever wear--
Time cannot bend the line which God hath writ.
Always the general show of things
Floats in review before my mind,
And such true love and reverence brings,
That sometimes I forget that I am blind.
But now there comes unsought, unseen,
Some clear divine electuary,
And I, who had but sensual been,
Grow sensible, and as God is, am wary.
I hearing get, who had but ears,
And sight, who had but eyes before,
I moments live, who lived but years,
And truth discern, who knew but learning's lore.
I hear beyond the range of sound,
I see beyond the range of sight,
New earths and skies and seas around,
And in my day the sun doth pale his light.
A clear and ancient harmony
Pierces my soul through all its din,
As through its utmost melody--
Farther behind than they, farther within.
More swift its bolt than lightning is,
Its voice than thunder is more loud,
It doth expand my privacies
To all, and leave me single in the crowd.
It speaks with such authority,
With so serene and lofty tone,
That idle Time runs gadding by,
And leaves me with Eternity alone.
Now chiefly is my natal hour,
And only now my prime of life;
Of manhood's strength it is the flower,
'Tis peace's end and war's beginning strife.
It comes in summer's broadest noon,
By a grey wall or some chance place,
Unseasoning Time, insulting June,
And vexing day with its presuming face.
Such fragrance round my couch it makes,
More rich than are Arabian drugs,
That my soul scents its life and wakes
The body up beneath its perfumed rugs.
Such is the Muse, the heavenly maid,
The star that guides our mortal course,
Which shows where life's true kernel's laid,
Its wheat's fine flour, and its undying force.
She with one breath attunes the spheres,
And also my poor human heart,
With one impulse propels the years
Around, and gives my throbbing pulse its start.
I will not doubt for evermore,
Nor falter from a steadfast faith,
For thought the system be turned o'er,
God takes not back the word which once He saith.
I will not doubt the love untold
Which not my worth nor want has bought,
Which wooed me young, and woos me old,
And to this evening hath me brought.
My memory I'll educate
To know the one historic truth,
Remembering to the latest date
The only true and sole immortal youth.
Be but thy inspiration given,
No matter through what danger sought,
I'll fathom hell or climb to heaven,
And yet esteem that cheap which love has bought.
___________________
Fame cannot tempt the bard
Who's famous with his God,
Nor laurel him reward
Who has his Maker's nod.
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Written by
Ben Jonson |
XI. — EPODE. And her black spite expel, Which to effect (since no breast is so sure, Or safe, but she'll procure Some way of entrance) we must plant a guard Of thoughts to watch, and ward At the eye and ear, the ports unto the mind, Give knowledge instantly, To wakeful reason, our affections' king : Who, in th' examining, Will quickly taste the treason, and commit Close, the close cause of it. 'Tis the securest policy we have, To make our sense our slave. But this true course is not embraced by many : Or else the sentinel, That should ring larum to the heart, doth sleep ; Or some great thought doth keep Back the intelligence, and falsely swears, They are base, and idle fears Whereof the loyal conscience so complains, Thus, by these subtile trains, Do several passions invade the mind, The first ; as prone to move Most frequent tumults, horrors, and unrests, In our enflamed breasts : But this doth from the cloud of error grow, Which thus we over-blow. The thing they here call Love, is blind desire, Arm'd with bow, shafts, and fire ; Inconstant, like the sea, of whence 'tis born, And boils, as if he were In a continual tempest. Now, true love No such effects doth prove ; That is an essence far more gentle, fine, Pure, perfect, nay divine ; It is a golden chain let down from heaven, Whose links are bright and even, That falls like sleep on lovers, and combines To murder different hearts, But in a calm, and god-like unity, Preserves community. O, who is he, that, in this peace, enjoys The elixir of all joys ? A form more fresh than are the Eden bowers, And lasting as her flowers : Richer than Time, and as time's virtue rare Who, blest with such high chance Would, at suggestion of a steep desire, Cast himself from the spire Of all his happiness ? But soft : I hear Some vicious fool draw near, That cries, we dream, and swears there's no such thing, As this chaste love we sing. Peace, Luxury, thou art like one of those No, Vice, we let thee know, Though thy wild thoughts with sparrows' wings do flie, Turtles can chastly die ; And yet (in this t' express ourselves more clear) We do not number here Such spirits as are only continent, Because lust's means are spent : Or those, who doubt the common mouth of fame, Is mere necessity. Nor mean we those, whom vows and conscience Have fill'd with abstinence : Though we acknowledge, who can so abstain, Makes a most blessed gain. He that for love of goodness hateth ill, Is more crown-worthy still, Than he, which for sin's penalty forbears ; Graced with a Phoenix' love ; A beauty of that clear and sparkling light, Would make a day of night, And turn the blackest sorrows to bright joys ; Whose odorous breath destroys All taste of bitterness, and makes the air As sweet as she is fair. A body so harmoniously composed, O, so divine a creature, Who could be false to? chiefly, when he knows How only she bestows The wealthy treasure of her love on him ; Making his fortune swim In the full flood of her admired perfection ? What savage, brute affection, Would not be fearful to offend a dame To virtuous moods inclined That knows the weight of guilt ; he will refrain From thoughts of such a strain, And to his sense object this sentence ever, "Man may securely sin, but safely never."
Is virtue and not fate : Next to that virtue, is to know vice well, And her black spite expel, Which to effect (since no breast is so sure, Or safe, but she'll procure Some way of entrance) we must plant a guard Of thoughts to watch, and ward At the eye and ear, the ports unto the mind,
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Written by
Henry Lawson |
Sons of Australia, be loyal and true to her -
Fling out the flag of the Southern Cross!
Sing a loud song to be joyous and new to her -
Fling out the flag of the Southern Cross!
Stain'd with the blood of the diggers who died by it,
Fling out the flag to the front, and abide by it -
Fling out the flag of the Southern Cross!
See how the toadies of Austral throw dust o'er her -
Fling out the flag of the Southern Cross!
We who are holding her honour in trust for her -
Fling out the flag of the Southern Cross!
See how the yellow-men next to her lust for her,
Sooner or later to battle we must for her -
Fling out the flag of the Southern Cross.
Beg not of England the right to preserve ourselves,
Fling out the flag of the Southern Cross,
We are the servants best able to serve ourselves,
Fling out the flag of the Southern Cross.
What are our hearts for, and what are our hands for?
What are we nourished in these southern lands for?
Fling out the flag of the Southern Cross.
Shall we in fear of the Dragon or Bruin now
Keep back the flag of the Southern Cross?
Better to die on a field of red ruin now,
Under the flag of the Southern Cross.
Let us stand out like the gallant Eureka men -
Give not our country the sorrow to seek her men -
Fling out the flag of the Southern Cross!
See how the loyal are storing up shame for us
Under the light of the Southern Cross.
Never! Oh! never be coward a name for us -
Fling out the flag of the Southern Cross!
England's red flag will bring hatred and worse to it,
Murder and rapine hath brought a black curse to it;
Fling out the flag of the Southern Cross!
Have we not breasts for the bullets of thunderers?
Fling out the flag of the Southern Cross!
Have we not steel for the bosoms of plunderers?
Fling out the flag of the Southern Cross!
Prove ourselves worthy the land we inherit now,
Feed till it blazes the National spirit now!
Fling out the flag of the Southern Cross!
Let us be bold, be it daylight or night for us -
Fling out the flag of the Southern Cross!
Let us be firm - with our God and our right for us,
Under the flag of the Southern Cross!
Austral is fair, and the idlers in strife for her
Plunder her, sneer at her, suck the young life from her!
Fling out the flag of the Southern Cross!
Fling out the flag to the front, and abide by it -
Fling out the flag of the Southern Cross!
Stand by the blood of the diggers who died by it -
Fling out the flag of the Southern Cross!
Fling out the flag to the front, and be brave for it.
Liberty! Light! or a battle-field grave for it!
Bonny bright flag of the Southern Cross!
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