Quotes about flag, page 105
Ideals
Better than land or gold or trade
Are a high ideal and a purpose true;
Better than all of the wealth we've made
Is the work for others that now we do.
For Rome grew rich and she turned to song
And danced to music and drank her wine,
But she sapped the strength of her fibres strong
And a gilded shroud was her splendor fine.
The Rome of old with its wealth and wine
Was the handiwork of a sturdy race;
They builded well and they made it fine
And they dreamed of it as their children's place.
They thought the joys they had won to give,
And which seemed so certain and fixed and sure,
To the end of time in the world would live
And the Rome they'd fashioned would long endure.
They passed to their children the hoarded gold,
Their marble halls and their fertile fields!
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poem by Edgar Albert Guest
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The Voyage Of Our Love Story
Full of hope and patience,
My left leg I raise to step foward,
Full of love and confidence,
My right leg I raise to step ahead,
Until when shall I call you my wife,
A moment that come along in life,
Slicing across my agony with a knife,
It will be nomore pain and strife,
The distance behind is long my love,
Awaiting is another longer distance,
Hold my hande lets go,
The voyage of our love story
We met the wild beasts remember,
With our teamwork we overcame,
The long winter which froze our thoughts,
On that moment yes I remember,
It was you and me, and us
They tried to shine off our stars,
Yet the light we shed even more,
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poem by Gaylord Munemo
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Money animal
razor sharp cannines
that can tear through
the toughest frame
and legs that can run
faster than any animals
and the jaguar falls into
a physique to become
a jaguar and not a man
the god writes couplets
for souls to choose
what they would love to be
a brain that can be
worked to do wonders
but his legs, his hands
his phsiques are no match
for even a horse
a permanent home for cover
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poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Alive Together
Speaking of marvels, I am alive
together with you, when I might have been
alive with anyone under the sun,
when I might have been Abelard's woman
or the whore of a Renaissance pope
or a peasant wife with not enough food
and not enough love, with my children
dead of the plague. I might have slept
in an alcove next to the man
with the golden nose, who poked it
into the business of stars,
or sewn a starry flag
for a general with wooden teeth.
I might have been the exemplary Pocahontas
or a woman without a name
weeping in Master's bed
for my husband, exchanged for a mule,
my daughter, lost in a drunken bet.
I might have been stretched on a totem pole
to appease a vindictive god
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poem by Lisel Mueller
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Song Of A Brigadier
I wear a splendid uniform;
I ride a splendid nag;
I talk both loud and valiantly
Of Honor and the Flag;
But let the South be easy still,
Her soldiers need not fear.
Ne'er shot nor blow shall lay them low
While I'm a Brigadier.
I canter gaily through the streets,
Attended by my staff,
Unheeding vulgar little boys
Who hoot and stare and chaff;
And such a staff! all foreign names,
Quite wonderful to hear,
Plain Yankee boys aren't good enough
For such a Brigadier.
I've Baron This and Duke of That,
And Prince of 'Tother, too,
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poem by Anonymous Americas
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Tales Of A Wayside Inn : Part 2. Finale
'Nunc plaudite!' the Student cried,
When he had finished; 'now applaud,
As Roman actors used to say
At the conclusion of a play;?
And rose, and spread his hands abroad,
And smiling bowed from side to side,
As one who bears the palm away.
And generous was the applause and loud,
But less for him than for the sun,
That even as the tale was done
Burst from its canopy of cloud,
And lit the landscape with the blaze
Of afternoon on autumn days,
And filled the room with light, and made
The fire of logs a painted shade.
A sudden wind from out the west
Blew all its trumpets loud and shrill;
The windows rattled with the blast,
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poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Rivers and Boats
I don't know what you look like now
I burned the bridges and the boats
And this old photograph I've found
It shows you standing by the road
Your windblown hair across your face
Just as I turned and looked away
I always got my timing wrong
I couldn't wait and you were gone
I heard your voice a year ago
We talked about so many things
That maybe you'd be coming home
But all those words on broken wings
Fell down the well of endless time
To echo through some restless night
I never quite caught sight of you
I never quite knew what to do
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poem by Jim Hogg
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Sea Ballad - From
“HOW many?” said our good Captain.
“Twenty sail and more.”
We were homeward bound,
Scudding in a gale with our jib towards the Nore.
Right athwart our tack,
The foe came thick and black,
Like Hell-birds and foul weather—you might count them by the score.
The Betsy Jane did slack
To see the game in view.
They knew the Union-Jack,
And the tyrant’s flag we knew!
Our Captain shouted “Clear the decks!” and the Bo’sun’s whistle blew.
Then our gallant Captain,
With his hand he seiz’d the wheel,
And pointed with his stump to the middle of the foe.
“Hurray, lads, in we go!”
(You should hear the British cheer,
Fore and aft.)
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poem by Sydney Thompson Dobell
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Song for the students' glee club
Now, brothers, sing out our song,
Whose train of light shall follow long!
With love are its measures beating
And victory's joyous greeting,
While round about it flower-seeds
In will of youth shall grow to deeds!
Our song has gone far and. wide,
Bright mem'ries on our way abide,
In flags flying, friends that love us,
In wreaths from fair hands above us,
In feasts where youth's full spirits stream,
Our nation's past, our nation's dream.
At
Hald
on a sunny day
That shot-torn flag of many a fray
Was waving above our singing,
Soul-fire to our music bringing,
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poem by Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson
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Osama Can You See
I remember when you attacked us, in our own land
It seems like only yesterday...
When so many... thousands of my brothers and sisters laid
The wounds you left... cut us so very deep
Still on our minds...
Most likely forever... we'll keep
Yes... We had tried to be good neighbors
Foods, medicines, dams floods controlled.
But for our own tears?
They've just endlessly flowed...
And
For our torn hearts.... bleeding,
For our souls.... pains beyond pains.... and sad...
Yet, from with in comes something,
That you never knew we had!
Love for our country
United... heart to heart
And when needed... hand to hand
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poem by Clyde Bryson
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