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The penalty for laughing in a courtroom is six months in jail; if it were not for this penalty, the jury would never hear the evidence.

quote by H.L. Mencken
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy! | In Romanian

Trial by Jury

DRAMATIS PERSONAE

THE LEARNED JUDGE
THE PLAINTIFF
THE DEFENDANT
COUNSEL FOR THE PLAINTIFF
USHER
FOREMAN OF THE JURY
ASSOCIATE
FIRST BRIDESMAID

SCENE - A Court of Justice, Barristers, Attorney, and Jurymen
discovered.

CHORUS

Hark, the hour of ten is sounding:
Hearts with anxious fears are bounding,
Hall of Justice, crowds surrounding,
Breathing hope and fear--
For to-day in this arena,
Summoned by a stern subpoena,
Edwin, sued by Angelina,
Shortly will appear.

Enter Usher

SOLO - USHER

Now, Jurymen, hear my advice--
All kinds of vulgar prejudice
I pray you set aside:
With stern, judicial frame of mind
From bias free of every kind,
This trial must be tried.

CHORUS

From bias free of every kind,
This trial must be tried.

[During Chorus, Usher sings fortissimo, "Silence in Court!"]

USHER Oh, listen to the plaintiff's case:
Observe the features of her face--
The broken-hearted bride.
Condole with her distress of mind:
From bias free of every kind,
This trial must be tried!

[...] Read more

poem by William Schwenck Gilbert
Added by Poetry Lover
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The mother and the artist

A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of wonderfully emollient freshness; every
unfurling instant of impregnably magnificent existence,

A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of spellbindingly undefeated innocence; every
unfurling instant of symbiotically pristine existence,

A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of timelessly unconquerable truth; every unfurling
instant of bounteously magnanimous existence,

A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of unfathomably unfettered creativity; every
unfurling instant of timelessly burgeoning existence,

A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of royally triumphant resplendence; every
unfurling instant of unconquerably majestic existence,

A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of eternally exhilarating vivaciousness; every
unfurling instant of redolently insuperable existence,

A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of unbelievably ameliorating optimism; every
unfurling instant of marvelously benign existence,

A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of brilliantly liberated camaraderie; every
unfurling instant of iridescently inscrutable existence,

A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of unshakably virgin righteousness; every
unfurling instant of beautifully untainted existence,

A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of uninhibitedly heavenly frolic; every unfurling
instant of tantalizingly sensuous existence,

A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of compassionately humanitarian friendship; every
unfurling instant of magically mitigating existence,

A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of miraculously everlasting freshness; every
unfurling instant of invincibly coalescing existence,

A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of pricelessly ubiquitous oneness; every unfurling

[...] Read more

poem by Nikhil Parekh
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Puzzling Evidence

You got the cbs...!
And the abc...!
You got time and newsweek!
Well, theyre the same to me!
Now dont you wanna get right with me?
(puzzling evidence)
I hope you get evrything you need
(puzzling evidence)
Puzzling evidence
Puzzling evidence
Puzzling evidence
Done hardened in your heart
Hardened in your heart.
...alright!u
Now I am the gun
And you are the bullet
I got the power and glory!
(puzzling)
And the money to buy it!
(puzzling)
Got your gulf and western and your mastercard
(puzzling evidence)
Got what you wanted, lost what you had
(puzzling evidence)
Im seeing
Puzzling evidence
Puzzling evidence
Puzzling evidence
Done hardened in your heart
Its hardened up your heart.
...alright!
Huh...huh...huh...huh...huh...huh...huh...u
Well, Im puzzling (huh!)
Im puzzling (huh!)
Im puzzling (huh!)
Puzzling (huh!)
Im puzzling (huh!)
Woo...Im puzzling (huh!)
Sometimes Im puzzling! (huh!)
See the little children! (puzzlin)
And the family! (puzzlin)
Gonna live together! (puzzlin)
Take them home with me! (puzzlin)
Well I hope youre happy with what youve made
(puzzling evidence)
In the land of the free and the home of the brave
(puzzling evidence)
Im seeing
Puzzling evidence
Puzzling evidence

[...] Read more

song performed by Talking Heads
Added by Lucian Velea
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Puzzlin' Evidence

You got the CBS...!
And the ABC...!
You got Time and Newsweek!
Well, they're the same to me!
Now don't you wanna get right with me?
(Puzzling Evidence)
I hope you get ev'rything you need
(Puzzling Evidence)
Puzzling Evidence
Puzzling Evidence
Puzzling Evidence
Done hardened in your heart
Hardened in your heart.
...Alright!
Now I am the gun
And you are the bullet
I got the power and glory!
(Puzzling)
And the money to buy it!
(Puzzling)
Got your Gulf and Western and your MasterCard
(Puzzling Evidence)
Got what you wanted, lost what you had
(Puzzling Evidence)
I'm seeing
Puzzling Evidence
Puzzling Evidence
Puzzling Evidence
Done hardened in your heart
It's hardened up your heart.
...alright!
Huh...huh...huh...huh...huh...huh...huh...
Well, I'm puzzling (Huh!)
I'm puzzling (Huh!)
I'm puzzling (Huh!)
Puzzling (Huh!)
I'm puzzling (Huh!)
Woo...I'm puzzling (Huh!)
Sometimes I'm puzzling! (Huh!)
See the little children! (Puzzlin')
And the family! (Puzzlin')
Gonna live together! (Puzzlin')
Take them home with me! (Puzzlin')
Well I hope you're happy with what you've made
(Puzzling Evidence)
In the land of the free and the home of the brave
(Puzzling Evidence)
I'm seeing
Puzzling Evidence
Puzzling Evidence

[...] Read more

song performed by Talking Heads
Added by Lucian Velea
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Dead, Jail, Or Rock 'n Roll

When I was a kid all I wanted to be
Was the meanest dude on the meanest machine
Now I'm going to wrong way on a one-way street
I never fit this society
I don't really mind
Doing my own time
The three choices I ever came to find
Were:Dead, Jail or Rock'n'Roll
Dead, Jail or Rock'n'Roll
Dead, Jail or Rock'n'Roll
Dead, Jail or Rock'n'Roll
I ain't looking for trouble but it's looking for me
The law of the jungle is protecting me
Lose sleep man stay out of your bed
You might wind up in jail if you lose your head
In death I might find
True peace of mind
But while I'm alive
Free choice is mine
It's either:Dead, Jail or Rock'n'Roll
Dead, Jail or Rock'n'Roll
Dead, Jail or Rock'n'Roll
Dead, Jail or Rock'n'Roll
Dead, Jail or Rock'n'Roll
I don't really mind
Doing my own time
The three choices I ever came to find
Were either:Dead, Jail or Rock'n'Roll
Dead, Jail or Rock'n'Roll
Dead, Jail or Rock'n'Roll
Dead, Jail or Rock'n'Roll

song performed by Warrant
Added by Lucian Velea
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Dead, Jail, Or Rock 'n Roll

When I was a kid all I wanted to be
Was the meanest dude on the meanest machine
Now I'm going to wrong way on a one-way street
I never fit this society
I don't really mind
Doing my own time
The three choices I ever came to find
Were:Dead, Jail or Rock'n'Roll
Dead, Jail or Rock'n'Roll
Dead, Jail or Rock'n'Roll
Dead, Jail or Rock'n'Roll
I ain't looking for trouble but it's looking for me
The law of the jungle is protecting me
Lose sleep man stay out of your bed
You might wind up in jail if you lose your head
In death I might find
True peace of mind
But while I'm alive
Free choice is mine
It's either:Dead, Jail or Rock'n'Roll
Dead, Jail or Rock'n'Roll
Dead, Jail or Rock'n'Roll
Dead, Jail or Rock'n'Roll
Dead, Jail or Rock'n'Roll
I don't really mind
Doing my own time
The three choices I ever came to find
Were either:Dead, Jail or Rock'n'Roll
Dead, Jail or Rock'n'Roll
Dead, Jail or Rock'n'Roll
Dead, Jail or Rock'n'Roll

song performed by Warrant
Added by Lucian Velea
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V. Count Guido Franceschini

Thanks, Sir, but, should it please the reverend Court,
I feel I can stand somehow, half sit down
Without help, make shift to even speak, you see,
Fortified by the sip of … why, 't is wine,
Velletri,—and not vinegar and gall,
So changed and good the times grow! Thanks, kind Sir!
Oh, but one sip's enough! I want my head
To save my neck, there's work awaits me still.
How cautious and considerate … aie, aie, aie,
Nor your fault, sweet Sir! Come, you take to heart
An ordinary matter. Law is law.
Noblemen were exempt, the vulgar thought,
From racking; but, since law thinks otherwise,
I have been put to the rack: all's over now,
And neither wrist—what men style, out of joint:
If any harm be, 't is the shoulder-blade,
The left one, that seems wrong i' the socket,—Sirs,
Much could not happen, I was quick to faint,
Being past my prime of life, and out of health.
In short, I thank you,—yes, and mean the word.
Needs must the Court be slow to understand
How this quite novel form of taking pain,
This getting tortured merely in the flesh,
Amounts to almost an agreeable change
In my case, me fastidious, plied too much
With opposite treatment, used (forgive the joke)
To the rasp-tooth toying with this brain of mine,
And, in and out my heart, the play o' the probe.
Four years have I been operated on
I' the soul, do you see—its tense or tremulous part—
My self-respect, my care for a good name,
Pride in an old one, love of kindred—just
A mother, brothers, sisters, and the like,
That looked up to my face when days were dim,
And fancied they found light there—no one spot,
Foppishly sensitive, but has paid its pang.
That, and not this you now oblige me with,
That was the Vigil-torment, if you please!
The poor old noble House that drew the rags
O' the Franceschini's once superb array
Close round her, hoped to slink unchallenged by,—
Pluck off these! Turn the drapery inside out
And teach the tittering town how scarlet wears!
Show men the lucklessness, the improvidence
Of the easy-natured Count before this Count,
The father I have some slight feeling for,
Who let the world slide, nor foresaw that friends
Then proud to cap and kiss their patron's shoe,
Would, when the purse he left held spider-webs,
Properly push his child to wall one day!

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Damages, Two Hundred Pounds

Special Jurymen of England! who admire your country's laws,
And proclaim a British Jury worthy of the realm's applause;
Gayly compliment each other at the issue of a cause
Which was tried at Guildford 'sizes, this day week as ever was.

Unto that august tribunal comes a gentleman in grief,
(Special was the British Jury, and the Judge, the Baron Chief,)
Comes a British man and husband—asking of the law relief;
For his wife was stolen from him—he'd have vengeance on the thief.

Yes, his wife, the blessed treasure with the which his life was
crowned,
Wickedly was ravished from him by a hypocrite profound.
And he comes before twelve Britons, men for sense and truth renowned,
To award him for his damage, twenty hundred sterling pound.

He by counsel and attorney there at Guildford does appear,
Asking damage of the villain who seduced his lady dear:
But I can't help asking, though the lady's guilt was all too clear,
And though guilty the defendant, wasn't the plaintiff rather queer?

First the lady's mother spoke, and said she'd seen her daughter cry
But a fortnight after marriage: early times for piping eye.
Six months after, things were worse, and the piping eye was black,
And this gallant British husband caned his wife upon the back.

Three months after they were married, husband pushed her to the door,
Told her to be off and leave him, for he wanted her no more.
As she would not go, why HE went: thrice he left his lady dear;
Left her, too, without a penny, for more than a quarter of a year.

Mrs. Frances Duncan knew the parties very well indeed,
She had seen him pull his lady's nose and make her lip to bleed;
If he chanced to sit at home not a single word he said:
Once she saw him throw the cover of a dish at his lady's head.

Sarah Green, another witness, clear did to the jury note
How she saw this honest fellow seize his lady by the throat,
How he cursed her and abused her, beating her into a fit,
Till the pitying next-door neighbors crossed the wall and witnessed it.

Next door to this injured Briton Mr. Owers a butcher dwelt;
Mrs. Owers's foolish heart towards this erring dame did melt;
(Not that she had erred as yet, crime was not developed in her),
But being left without a penny, Mrs. Owers supplied her dinner—
God be merciful to Mrs. Owers, who was merciful to this sinner!

Caroline Naylor was their servant, said they led a wretched life,
Saw this most distinguished Briton fling a teacup at his wife;
He went out to balls and pleasures, and never once, in ten months'

[...] Read more

poem by William Makepeace Thackeray
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Holloway Jail

They took my baby, to holloway jail,
They took my baby, down holloway jail,
She was a lady, when she went in,
Now shes in jail, and its giving me hell.
She was succeeding in the city,
She was just beginning to excel,
Then a spiv named frankie simes
Led her to a life of crime,
And led her on the downward trail.
Frankie came home late from work one evening,
The c.l.d. were hot on his trail,
Frankie promised everything,
And then he went and turned her in,
She went and took the rap for him,
Now shes impaled in holloway jail.
They took my baby, down holloway jail,
They took my baby, to holloway jail,
There aint no pity, there aint no bail,
And she assures me that its living hell.
She was young and ever so pretty,
Now she looks so old and pale,
She never sees the day,
She wastes her life away,
Sitting in that prison cell.
They took my baby to holloway jail,
They took my baby, down holloway jail,
She was a lady when she went in,
Now shes in jail, and its giving me hell.
Shes impaled, in holloway jail.

song performed by Kinks
Added by Lucian Velea
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Since I’ve Been In Jail

Since I've been in jail
the world has turned around the sun ten times
And if you ask the earth, it will say:
'It's not worth mentioning,
a microscopic time.'
And if you ask me, I will say:
'It's ten years of my life.'
I had a pencil
the year I came to jail.
It wore out in a week from writing.
And if you ask the pencil, it will say:
'A whole life.'
And if you ask me, I will say:
'It's nothing, a mere week.'
Osman who was jailed for murder
completed a seven-year stretch and left
since I've been in jail.
He wandered around outside for a while,
and then got jailed again for smuggling.
He served a six-month term and left again,
and yesterday a letter came saying he's married
and a child will be born in the spring.
Now they're ten years old
the children who fell from their mothers' womb
that year I came to jail,
And the colts of that year who had long thin shaky legs
have long since become docile broad-rumped mares.
But the olive shoots are still shoots
and they're still children.
New squares have opened up in my distant city
since I've been in jail.
And our family
is living in a house I've never seen
on a street I don't know.
The bread was pure white, like cotton,
the year I came to jail.
Later it was rationed out,
And we here on the inside beat one another
for a piece of black crust the size of a fist.
Now it's free again,
But brown and tasteless.
The year I came to jail
The Second One had just begun.
The ovens in Dachau Camp were not yet lit,
The atom bomb was not yet hurled upon Hiroshima.
Time flowed like the blood of a child with his throat cut.
Later that chapter was officially closed,
Now American dollars are talking about a Third.
But in spite of everything, the days have brightened
since I've been in jail,

[...] Read more

poem by Nazim Hikmet
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Rubber Bullets

I went to a party at the local county jail
All the cons were dancing and the band began to wail
But the guys were indiscreet
They were brawling in the street
At the local dance at the local county jail
Well the band were playing
And the booze began to flow
But the sound came over on the police car radio
Down at precinct 49
Having a tear-gas of a time
Sergeant baker got a call from the governor of the county jail
Load up, load up, load up with rubber bullets
Load up, load up, load up with rubber bullets
I love to hear those convicts squeal
Its a shame these slugs aint real
But we cant have dancin at the local county jail
Sergeant baker and his men made a bee-line for the jail
And for miles around
You could hear the sirens wail
Theres a rumor goin round death row
That a fuse is gonna blow
At the local hop at the local county jail
Whatcha gonna do about it, whatcha gonna do
Whatcha gonna do about it, whatcha gonna do
Sergeant baker started talkin
With a bullhorn in his hand
He was cool, he was clear
He was always in command
He said blood will flow;
Here padre
Padre you talk to your boys...
Trust in me -
God will come to set you free
Well we dont understand
Why you called in the national guard
When uncle sam is the one
Who belongs in the exercise yard
We all got balls and brains
But somes got balls and chains
At the local dance at the local county jail
Load up, load up, load up with rubber bullets
Load up, load up, load up with rubber bullets
Is it really such a crime
For a guy to spend his time
At the local dance at the local county jail
At the local dance at the local county jail
Whatcha gonna do about it, whatcha gonna do
Whatcha gonna do about it, whatcha gonna do

song performed by 10 Cc
Added by Lucian Velea
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Medley: Rubber Bullets/silly Love Songs/life Is A Hinestrone

I went to a party at the local county jail
All the cons were dancing and the band began to wail
But the guys were indiscreet
They were brawling in the street
At the local dance at the local county jail
Well the band were playing
And the booze began to flow
But the sound came over on the police car radio
Down at precinct 49
Having a tear-gas of a time
Sergeant baker got a call from the governor of the county jail
Load up, load up, load up with rubber bullets
Load up, load up, load up with rubber bullets
I love to hear those convicts squeal
Its a shame these slugs aint real
But we cant have dancin at the local county jail
Sergeant baker and his men made a bee-line for the jail
And for miles around
You could hear the sirens wail
Theres a rumor goin round death row
That a fuse is gonna blow
At the local hop at the local county jail
Whatcha gonna do about it, whatcha gonna do
Whatcha gonna do about it, whatcha gonna do
Sergeant baker started talkin
With a bullhorn in his hand
He was cool, he was clear
He was always in command
He said blood will flow;
Here padre
Padre you talk to your boys...
Trust in me -
God will come to set you free
Well we dont understand
Why you called in the national guard
When uncle sam is the one
Who belongs in the exercise yard
We all got balls and brains
But somes got balls and chains
At the local dance at the local county jail
Load up, load up, load up with rubber bullets
Load up, load up, load up with rubber bullets
Is it really such a crime
For a guy to spend his time
At the local dance at the local county jail
At the local dance at the local county jail
Whatcha gonna do about it, whatcha gonna do
Whatcha gonna do about it, whatcha gonna do
===================
10cc - silly love

[...] Read more

song performed by 10 Cc
Added by Lucian Velea
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Rubber Bullets/sngl/bonus

10cc - rubber bullets
---------------------
I went to a party at the local county jail
All the cons were dancing and the band began to wail
But the guys were indiscreet
They were brawling in the street
At the local dance at the local county jail
Well the band were playing
And the booze began to flow
But the sound came over on the police car radio
Down at precinct 49
Having a tear-gas of a time
Sergeant baker got a call from the governor of the county jail
Load up, load up, load up with rubber bullets
Load up, load up, load up with rubber bullets
I love to hear those convicts squeal
It's a shame these slugs ain't real
But we can't have dancin' at the local county jail
Sergeant baker and his men made a bee-line for the jail
And for miles around
You could hear the sirens wail
There's a rumor goin' round death row
That a fuse is gonna blow
At the local hop at the local county jail
Whatcha gonna do about it, whatcha gonna do
Whatcha gonna do about it, whatcha gonna do
Sergeant baker started talkin'
With a bullhorn in his hand
He was cool, he was clear
He was always in command
He said "blood will flow;
Here padre
Padre you talk to your boys..."
"trust in me -
God will come to set you free"
Well we don't understand
Why you called in the national guard
When uncle sam is the one
Who belongs in the exercise yard
We all got balls and brains
But some's got balls and chains
At the local dance at the local county jail
Load up, load up, load up with rubber bullets
Load up, load up, load up with rubber bullets
Is it really such a crime
For a guy to spend his time
At the local dance at the local county jail
At the local dance at the local county jail
Whatcha gonna do about it, whatcha gonna do
Whatcha gonna do about it, whatcha gonna do

song performed by 10 Cc
Added by Lucian Velea
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VI. Giuseppe Caponsacchi

Answer you, Sirs? Do I understand aright?
Have patience! In this sudden smoke from hell,—
So things disguise themselves,—I cannot see
My own hand held thus broad before my face
And know it again. Answer you? Then that means
Tell over twice what I, the first time, told
Six months ago: 't was here, I do believe,
Fronting you same three in this very room,
I stood and told you: yet now no one laughs,
Who then … nay, dear my lords, but laugh you did,
As good as laugh, what in a judge we style
Laughter—no levity, nothing indecorous, lords!
Only,—I think I apprehend the mood:
There was the blameless shrug, permissible smirk,
The pen's pretence at play with the pursed mouth,
The titter stifled in the hollow palm
Which rubbed the eyebrow and caressed the nose,
When I first told my tale: they meant, you know,
"The sly one, all this we are bound believe!
"Well, he can say no other than what he says.
"We have been young, too,—come, there's greater guilt!
"Let him but decently disembroil himself,
"Scramble from out the scrape nor move the mud,—
"We solid ones may risk a finger-stretch!
And now you sit as grave, stare as aghast
As if I were a phantom: now 't is—"Friend,
"Collect yourself!"—no laughing matter more—
"Counsel the Court in this extremity,
"Tell us again!"—tell that, for telling which,
I got the jocular piece of punishment,
Was sent to lounge a little in the place
Whence now of a sudden here you summon me
To take the intelligence from just—your lips!
You, Judge Tommati, who then tittered most,—
That she I helped eight months since to escape
Her husband, was retaken by the same,
Three days ago, if I have seized your sense,—
(I being disallowed to interfere,
Meddle or make in a matter none of mine,
For you and law were guardians quite enough
O' the innocent, without a pert priest's help)—
And that he has butchered her accordingly,
As she foretold and as myself believed,—
And, so foretelling and believing so,
We were punished, both of us, the merry way:
Therefore, tell once again the tale! For what?
Pompilia is only dying while I speak!
Why does the mirth hang fire and miss the smile?
My masters, there's an old book, you should con
For strange adventures, applicable yet,

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Cry For Home

Ill be waiting
Ill be waiting on that shore
To hear the cry for home
You wont have to worry anymore
When you hear the cry for home
When you hear, hear the call
You wont have to fake at all
Hear the cry for home
Ill be standing
Ill be standing within reach
When you hear, hear the call
Ill be waiting
Ill be waiting in the breach
For you, when you hear
When you hear, hear the call
You wont have to fake at all
Hear the cry for home
(instrumental)
When I listen
When I listen to the song
Well it feels, it feels so free
And you tell me
You will come and go with me
When you hear the cry for home
When you hear the call
You wont have to think at all
Hear the cry for home
Spoken (one more, one more time)
When you hear, hear the call
You wont have to fake at all
Hear the cry for home
(one more open it up, open it up) (spoken)
When you hear, hear the call
You wont have to fake at all
Hear the cry for home
Hear (when you hear, hear the call)
Hear (when you hear, hear the call)
Hear (when you hear, hear the call)
Hear (when you hear, hear the call)
Hear (when you hear, hear the call)
Hear (when you hear, hear the call)

song performed by Van Morrison
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Death Penalty

Bring back the death penalty screamed a lady as the blood ran, dripping from the cold concrete as her sons blood fled from its body. Bring back, bring back the death penalty screamed a mother as her child dies slowly watching the pools of life fade away from his eyes.

Bring back, bring back the death penalty screamed a mother while she watched her child being killed by the hands of another man, bring back the death penalty.

Bring back the death penalty as she screamed holding her dying child while he laid his last words and breath upon her chest. Bring back the death penalty she screamed in mercy so that she will so that she will no longer have to hold any more of her dying sons and lay them in graves before she lays in her own.

Bring back the death penalty she screamed as her sons soul left his body and he became another victim to a violent society. Bring back the death penalty, bring back our sons.

poem by Melvyn Mohan
Added by Poetry Lover
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Hiawatha's Wooing

"As unto the bow the cord is,
So unto the man is woman;
Though she bends him, she obeys him,
Though she draws him, yet she follows;
Useless each without the other!"
Thus the youthful Hiawatha
Said within himself and pondered,
Much perplexed by various feelings,
Listless, longing, hoping, fearing,
Dreaming still of Minnehaha,
Of the lovely Laughing Water,
In the land of the Dacotahs.
"Wed a maiden of your people,"
Warning said the old Nokomis;
"Go not eastward, go not westward,
For a stranger, whom we know not!
Like a fire upon the hearth-stone
Is a neighbor's homely daughter,
Like the starlight or the moonlight
Is the handsomest of strangers!"
Thus dissuading spake Nokomis,
And my Hiawatha answered
Only this: "Dear old Nokomis,
Very pleasant is the firelight,
But I like the starlight better,
Better do I like the moonlight!"
Gravely then said old Nokomis:
"Bring not here an idle maiden,
Bring not here a useless woman,
Hands unskilful, feet unwilling;
Bring a wife with nimble fingers,
Heart and hand that move together,
Feet that run on willing errands!"
Smiling answered Hiawatha:
'In the land of the Dacotahs
Lives the Arrow-maker's daughter,
Minnehaha, Laughing Water,
Handsomest of all the women.
I will bring her to your wigwam,
She shall run upon your errands,
Be your starlight, moonlight, firelight,
Be the sunlight of my people!"
Still dissuading said Nokomis:
"Bring not to my lodge a stranger
From the land of the Dacotahs!
Very fierce are the Dacotahs,
Often is there war between us,
There are feuds yet unforgotten,
Wounds that ache and still may open!"
Laughing answered Hiawatha:

[...] Read more

poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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The Song of Hiawatha X: Hiawatha's Wooing

'As unto the bow the cord is,
So unto the man is woman,
Though she bends him, she obeys him,
Though she draws him, yet she follows,
Useless each without the other!'

Thus the youthful Hiawatha
Said within himself and pondered,
Much perplexed by various feelings,
Listless, longing, hoping, fearing,
Dreaming still of Minnehaha,
Of the lovely Laughing Water,
In the land of the Dacotahs.

'Wed a maiden of your people,'
Warning said the old Nokomis;
'Go not eastward, go not westward,
For a stranger, whom we know not!
Like a fire upon the hearth-stone
Is a neighbor's homely daughter,
Like the starlight or the moonlight
Is the handsomest of strangers!'

Thus dissuading spake Nokomis,
And my Hiawatha answered
Only this: 'Dear old Nokomis,
Very pleasant is the firelight,
But I like the starlight better,
Better do I like the moonlight!'

Gravely then said old Nokomis:
'Bring not here an idle maiden,
Bring not here a useless woman,
Hands unskilful, feet unwilling;
Bring a wife with nimble fingers,
Heart and hand that move together,
Feet that run on willing errands!'

Smiling answered Hiawatha:
'In the land of the Dacotahs
Lives the Arrow-maker's daughter,
Minnehaha, Laughing Water,
Handsomest of all the women.
I will bring her to your wigwam,
She shall run upon your errands,
Be your starlight, moonlight, firelight,
Be the sunlight of my people!'

Still dissuading said Nokomis:
'Bring not to my lodge a stranger

[...] Read more

poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Added by Poetry Lover
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The Song of Hiawatha: X

X. Hiawatha's Wooing

"As unto the bow the cord is,
So unto the man is woman,
Though she bends him, she obeys him,
Though she draws him, yet she follows,
Useless each without the other!"

Thus the youthful Hiawatha
Said within himself and pondered,
Much perplexed by various feelings,
Listless, longing, hoping, fearing,
Dreaming still of Minnehaha,
Of the lovely Laughing Water,
In the land of the Dacotahs.

"Wed a maiden of your people,"
Warning said the old Nokomis;
"Go not eastward, go not westward,
For a stranger, whom we know not!
Like a fire upon the hearth-stone
Is a neighbor's homely daughter,
Like the starlight or the moonlight
Is the handsomest of strangers!"

Thus dissuading spake Nokomis,
And my Hiawatha answered
Only this: "Dear old Nokomis,
Very pleasant is the firelight,
But I like the starlight better,
Better do I like the moonlight!"

Gravely then said old Nokomis:
"Bring not here an idle maiden,
Bring not here a useless woman,
Hands unskilful, feet unwilling;
Bring a wife with nimble fingers,
Heart and hand that move together,
Feet that run on willing errands!"

Smiling answered Hiawatha:
"In the land of the Dacotahs
Lives the Arrow-maker's daughter,
Minnehaha, Laughing Water,
Handsomest of all the women.
I will bring her to your wigwam,
She shall run upon your errands,
Be your starlight, moonlight, firelight,
Be the sunlight of my people!"

[...] Read more

poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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III. The Other Half-Rome

Another day that finds her living yet,
Little Pompilia, with the patient brow
And lamentable smile on those poor lips,
And, under the white hospital-array,
A flower-like body, to frighten at a bruise
You'd think, yet now, stabbed through and through again,
Alive i' the ruins. 'T is a miracle.
It seems that, when her husband struck her first,
She prayed Madonna just that she might live
So long as to confess and be absolved;
And whether it was that, all her sad life long
Never before successful in a prayer,
This prayer rose with authority too dread,—
Or whether, because earth was hell to her,
By compensation, when the blackness broke
She got one glimpse of quiet and the cool blue,
To show her for a moment such things were,—
Or else,—as the Augustinian Brother thinks,
The friar who took confession from her lip,—
When a probationary soul that moved
From nobleness to nobleness, as she,
Over the rough way of the world, succumbs,
Bloodies its last thorn with unflinching foot,
The angels love to do their work betimes,
Staunch some wounds here nor leave so much for God.
Who knows? However it be, confessed, absolved,
She lies, with overplus of life beside
To speak and right herself from first to last,
Right the friend also, lamb-pure, lion-brave,
Care for the boy's concerns, to save the son
From the sire, her two-weeks' infant orphaned thus,
And—with best smile of all reserved for him—
Pardon that sire and husband from the heart.
A miracle, so tell your Molinists!

There she lies in the long white lazar-house.
Rome has besieged, these two days, never doubt,
Saint Anna's where she waits her death, to hear
Though but the chink o' the bell, turn o' the hinge
When the reluctant wicket opes at last,
Lets in, on now this and now that pretence,
Too many by half,—complain the men of art,—
For a patient in such plight. The lawyers first
Paid the due visit—justice must be done;
They took her witness, why the murder was.
Then the priests followed properly,—a soul
To shrive; 't was Brother Celestine's own right,
The same who noises thus her gifts abroad.
But many more, who found they were old friends,
Pushed in to have their stare and take their talk

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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