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Best Famous Marion Poems

Here is a collection of the all-time best famous Marion poems. This is a select list of the best famous Marion poetry. Reading, writing, and enjoying famous Marion poetry (as well as classical and contemporary poems) is a great past time. These top poems are the best examples of marion poems.

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Written by Marion Strobel | Create an image from this poem

Little Things

Little things I’ll give to you—
Till your fingers learn to press 
Gently 
On a loveliness;

Little things and new—
Till your fingers learn to hold
Love that’s fragile,
Love that’s old.


Written by Victor Hugo | Create an image from this poem

First Love

 ("Vous êtes singulier.") 
 
 {MARION DELORME, Act I., June, 1829, played 1831.} 
 
 MARION (smiling.) You're strange, and yet I love you thus. 
 
 DIDIER. You love me? 
 Beware, nor with light lips utter that word. 
 You love me!—know you what it is to love 
 With love that is the life-blood in one's veins, 
 The vital air we breathe, a love long-smothered, 
 Smouldering in silence, kindling, burning, blazing, 
 And purifying in its growth the soul. 
 A love that from the heart eats every passion 
 But its sole self; love without hope or limit, 
 Deep love that will outlast all happiness; 
 Speak, speak; is such the love you bear me? 
 
 MARION. Truly. 
 
 DIDIER. Ha! but you do not know how I love you! 
 The day that first I saw you, the dark world 
 Grew shining, for your eyes lighted my gloom. 
 Since then, all things have changed; to me you are 
 Some brightest, unknown creature from the skies. 
 This irksome life, 'gainst which my heart rebelled, 
 Seems almost fair and pleasant; for, alas! 
 Till I knew you wandering, alone, oppressed, 
 I wept and struggled, I had never loved. 
 
 FANNY KEMBLE-BUTLER. 


 




Written by G K Chesterton | Create an image from this poem

The Logical Vegetarian

 "Why shouldn't I have a purely vegetarian drink? Why shouldn't I take vegetables in their highest form, so to speak? The modest vegetarians ought to stick to wine or beer, plain vegetable drinks, instead of filling their goblets with the blood of bulls and elephants, as all conventional meat-eaters do, I suppose"--Dalroy.

You will find me drinking rum,
Like a sailor in a slum,
You will find me drinking beer like a Bavarian
You will find me drinking gin 
In the lowest kind of inn
Because I am a rigid Vegetarian.

So I cleared the inn of wine,
And I tried to climb the sign,
And I tried to hail the constable as "Marion."
But he said I couldn't speak,
And he bowled me to the Beak
Because I was a Happy Vegetarian.

Oh, I know a Doctor Gluck,
And his nose it had a hook,
And his attitudes were anything but Aryan;
So I gave him all the pork
That I had, upon a fork
Because I am myself a Vegetarian.

I am silent in the Club,
I am silent in the pub.,
I am silent on a bally peak in Darien;
For I stuff away for life
Shoving peas in with a knife,
Because I am a rigid Vegetarian.

No more the milk of cows
Shall pollute my private house
Than the milk of the wild mares of the Barbarian
I will stick to port and sherry,
For they are so very, very,
So very, very, very, Vegetarian.
Written by William Cullen Bryant | Create an image from this poem

Song of Marions Men

OUR band is few but true and tried  
Our leader frank and bold; 
The British soldier trembles 
When Marion's name is told. 
Our fortress is the good greenwood 5 
Our tent the cypress-tree; 
We know the forest round us  
As seamen know the sea. 
We know its walls of thorny vines  
Its glades of reedy grass 10 
Its safe and silent islands 
Within the dark morass. 

Woe to the English soldiery 
That little dread us near! 
On them shall light at midnight 15 
A strange and sudden fear: 
When waking to their tents on fire  
They grasp their arms in vain  
And they who stand to face us 
Are beat to earth again; 20 
And they who fly in terror deem 
A mighty host behind  
And hear the tramp of thousands 
Upon the hollow wind. 

Then sweet the hour that brings release 25 
From danger and from toil; 
We talk the battle over  
And share the battle's spoil. 
The woodland rings with laugh and shout  
As if a hunt were up 30 
And woodland flowers are gathered 
To crown the soldier's cup. 
With merry songs we mock the wind 
That in the pine-top grieves  
And slumber long and sweetly 35 
On beds of oaken leaves. 

Well knows the fair and friendly moon 
The band that Marion leads¡ª 
The glitter of their rifles  
The scampering of their steeds. 40 
'T is life to guide the fiery barb 
Across the moonlit plain; 
'T is life to feel the night-wind 
That lifts his tossing mane. 
A moment in the British camp¡ª 45 
A moment¡ªand away 
Back to the pathless forest  
Before the peep of day. 

Grave men there are by broad Santee  
Grave men with hoary hairs; 50 
Their hearts are all with Marion  
For Marion are their prayers. 
And lovely ladies greet our band 
With kindliest welcoming  
With smiles like those of summer 55 
And tears like those of spring. 
For them we wear these trusty arms  
And lay them down no more 
Till we have driven the Briton  
Forever from our shore. 60 
Written by William Topaz McGonagall | Create an image from this poem

The Summary History of Sir William Wallace

 Sir William Wallace of Ellerslie,
I'm told he went to the High School in Dundee,
For to learn to read and write,
And after that he learned to fight,
While at the High School in Dundee,
The Provost's son with him disagree,
Because Wallace did wear a dirk,
He despised him like an ignorant stirk,
Which with indignation he keenly felt,
And told him it would become him better in his belt. 

Then Wallace's blood began to boil,
Just like the serpent in its coil,
Before it leaps upon its prey;
And unto him he thus did say:
'Proud saucy cur, come cease your prate,
for no longer shall i wait,
For to hear you insult me,
At the High School in Dundee;
For such insolence makes my heart to smart,
And I'll plunge my dagger in you heart,' 

Then his heart's blood did quickly flow,
And poor Wallace did not know where to go;
And he stood by him until dead.
Then far from him he quickly fled,
Lamenting greatly the deed he had done,
the murdering of the Provost's son. 

The scene shifts to where he was fishing on day,
Where three English soldiers met him by the way,
And they asked him fo give them some fish,
And from them they would make a delicious dish,
then Wallace gave them share of his fish,
For to satisfy their wish;
But they seemed dissatisfied with the share they got,
So they were resolved to have all the lot. 

Then Wallace he thought it was time to look out,
When they were resolved to have all his trout;
So he swung his fishing-rod with great force round his head,
And struck on of them a blow that killed him dead;
So he instantly seized the fallen man's sword,
And the other two fled without uttering a word. 

Sir William Wallace of Ellerslie,
You were a warrior of great renown,
And might have worn Scotland's crown;
Had it not been for Monteith, the base traitor knave,
That brought you to a premature grave;
Yes! you were sold for English gold,
And brought like a sheep from the fold,
To die upon a shameful scaffold high,
Amidst the derisive shouts of your enemies standing by. 

But you met your doom like a warrior bold,
Bidding defiance to them that had you sold,
And bared your neck for the headsman's stroke;
And cried, 'Marion, dear, my heart is broke;
My lovely dear I come to thee,
Oh! I am longing thee to see!'
But the headsman was as stolid as the rock,
And the axe fell heavily on the block,
And the scaffold did shake with the terrible shock,
As the body of noble Wallace fell,
Who had fought for Scotland so well.



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