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Best Famous Nerves Of Steel Poems

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

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Written by Percy Bysshe Shelley | Create an image from this poem

On Death

 The pale, the cold, and the moony smile
Which the meteor beam of a starless night
Sheds on a lonely and sea-girt isle,
Ere the dawning of morn's undoubted light,
Is the flame of life so fickle and wan
That flits round our steps till their strength is gone.
O man! hold thee on in courage of soul Through the stormy shades of thy wordly way, And the billows of clouds that around thee roll Shall sleep in the light of a wondrous day, Where hell and heaven shall leave thee free To the universe of destiny.
This world is the nurse of all we know, This world is the mother of all we feel, And the coming of death is a fearful blow To a brain unencompass'd by nerves of steel: When all that we know, or feel, or see, Shall pass like an unreal mystery.
The secret things of the grave are there, Where all but this frame must surely be, Though the fine-wrought eye and the wondrous ear No longer will live, to hear or to see All that is great and all that is strange In the boundless realm of unending change.
Who telleth a tale of unspeaking death? Who lifteth the veil of what is to come? Who painteth the shadows that are beneath The wide-winding caves of the peopled tomb? Or uniteth the hopes of what shall be With the fears and the love for that which we see?

Written by Robert William Service | Create an image from this poem

Barb-Wire Bill

 At dawn of day the white land lay all gruesome-like and grim,
When Bill Mc'Gee he says to me: "We've got to do it, Jim.
We've got to make Fort Liard quick.
I know the river's bad, But, oh! the little woman's sick .
why! don't you savvy, lad?" And me! Well, yes, I must confess it wasn't hard to see Their little family group of two would soon be one of three.
And so I answered, careless-like: "Why, Bill! you don't suppose I'm scared of that there `babbling brook'? Whatever you say -- goes.
" A real live man was Barb-wire Bill, with insides copper-lined; For "barb-wire" was the brand of "hooch" to which he most inclined.
They knew him far; his igloos are on Kittiegazuit strand.
They knew him well, the tribes who dwell within the Barren Land.
From Koyokuk to Kuskoquim his fame was everywhere; And he did love, all life above, that little Julie Claire, The lithe, white slave-girl he had bought for seven hundred skins, And taken to his wickiup to make his moccasins.
We crawled down to the river bank and feeble folk were we, That Julie Claire from God-knows-where, and Barb-wire Bill and me.
From shore to shore we heard the roar the heaving ice-floes make, And loud we laughed, and launched our raft, and followed in their wake.
The river swept and seethed and leapt, and caught us in its stride; And on we hurled amid a world that crashed on every side.
With sullen din the banks caved in; the shore-ice lanced the stream; The naked floes like spooks arose, all jiggling and agleam.
Black anchor-ice of strange device shot upward from its bed, As night and day we cleft our way, and arrow-like we sped.
But "Faster still!" cried Barb-wire Bill, and looked the live-long day In dull despair at Julie Claire, as white like death she lay.
And sometimes he would seem to pray and sometimes seem to curse, And bent above, with eyes of love, yet ever she grew worse.
And as we plunged and leapt and lunged, her face was plucked with pain, And I could feel his nerves of steel a-quiver at the strain.
And in the night he gripped me tight as I lay fast asleep: "The river's kicking like a steer .
run out the forward sweep! That's Hell-gate Canyon right ahead; I know of old its roar, And .
I'll be damned! the ice is jammed! We've GOT to make the shore.
" With one wild leap I gripped the sweep.
The night was black as sin.
The float-ice crashed and ripped and smashed, and stunned us with its din.
And near and near, and clear and clear I heard the canyon boom; And swift and strong we swept along to meet our awful doom.
And as with dread I glimpsed ahead the death that waited there, My only thought was of the girl, the little Julie Claire; And so, like demon mad with fear, I panted at the oar, And foot by foot, and inch by inch, we worked the raft ashore.
The bank was staked with grinding ice, and as we scraped and crashed, I only knew one thing to do, and through my mind it flashed: Yet while I groped to find the rope, I heard Bill's savage cry: "That's my job, lad! It's me that jumps.
I'll snub this raft or die!" I saw him leap, I saw him creep, I saw him gain the land; I saw him crawl, I saw him fall, then run with rope in hand.
And then the darkness gulped him up, and down we dashed once more, And nearer, nearer drew the jam, and thunder-like its roar.
Oh God! all's lost .
from Julie Claire there came a wail of pain, And then -- the rope grew sudden taut, and quivered at the strain; It slacked and slipped, it whined and gripped, and oh, I held my breath! And there we hung and there we swung right in the jaws of death.
A little strand of hempen rope, and how I watched it there, With all around a hell of sound, and darkness and despair; A little strand of hempen rope, I watched it all alone, And somewhere in the dark behind I heard a woman moan; And somewhere in the dark ahead I heard a man cry out, Then silence, silence, silence fell, and mocked my hollow shout.
And yet once more from out the shore I heard that cry of pain, A moan of mortal agony, then all was still again.
That night was hell with all the frills, and when the dawn broke dim, I saw a lean and level land, but never sign of him.
I saw a flat and frozen shore of hideous device, I saw a long-drawn strand of rope that vanished through the ice.
And on that treeless, rockless shore I found my partner -- dead.
No place was there to snub the raft, so -- he had served instead; And with the rope lashed round his waist, in last defiant fight, He'd thrown himself beneath the ice, that closed and gripped him tight; And there he'd held us back from death, as fast in death he lay.
Say, boys! I'm not the pious brand, but -- I just tried to pray.
And then I looked to Julie Claire, and sore abashed was I, For from the robes that covered her, I - heard - a - baby - cry.
Thus was Love conqueror of death, and life for life was given; And though no saint on earth, d'ye think -- Bill's squared hisself with Heaven?