Quotes about queen, page 13
The Aeneid of Virgil: Book 11
SCARCE had the rosy Morning rais’d her head
Above the waves, and left her wat’ry bed;
The pious chief, whom double cares attend
For his unburied soldiers and his friend,
Yet first to Heav’n perform’d a victor’s vows: 5
He bar’d an ancient oak of all her boughs;
Then on a rising ground the trunk he plac’d,
Which with the spoils of his dead foe he grac’d.
The coat of arms by proud Mezentius worn,
Now on a naked snag in triumph borne, 10
Was hung on high, and glitter’d from afar,
A trophy sacred to the God of War.
Above his arms, fix’d on the leafless wood,
Appear’d his plumy crest, besmear’d with blood:
His brazen buckler on the left was seen; 15
Truncheons of shiver’d lances hung between;
And on the right was placed his corslet, bor’d;
And to the neck was tied his unavailing sword.
A crowd of chiefs inclose the godlike man,
Who thus, conspicuous in the midst, began: 20
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poem by Publius Vergilius Maro
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A Rhapsody To Urana
We know of Uranus, God to The Sky
Declaimed by Hellenic Invaders of Thessaly
Yet history forgets the true Sky Deity
The lovely Urana, Sky Goddess of equanimity
Her name's eponymy, `Queen of The Mountains`
`Queen of Summer`, `Queen of The Winds`
`Queen of The Oxen`, `Queen of Sky Rains`
Orgiastic Queen, of mid-summer din
I flout the Aryan Decree of Varuna
Who claimed to Father, the north of Greece
The indigo blue in The Sky of Urana
Belongs to The Ladies of peace
We, Fantast scions, of Delphi's roots
Bemused by Pythoness Epithia
Staid are we, who know the truth
Of the Lady Sky...............Urana
poem by Steve Trimmer
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Night Queen
It was deep midnight
the sky was crystal clear
millions not millions
but billions of stars
assembled in the open sky
was it a procession
or obeisance of Night Queen
The downpour of stars
appeared as undulating scarf
studded with jewels
the humming of stars
was breaking silence of nature
as if
singing in praise of night queen
All stars slowly moved down
to horizon of sky
it was the time
for farewell of Night Queen
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poem by Ramesh Rai
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A Masque Of The Seasons
Scene.--_A kitchen.--Group of Children, popping corn.--The Fairy Queen
of the Seasons discovered in the smoke of the corn-popper.--Waving her
wand, and, with eerie, sharp, imperious ejaculations, addressing the
bespelled auditors, who neither see nor hear her nor suspect her
presence._
QUEEN
Summer or Winter or Spring or Fall,--
Which do you like the best of all?
LITTLE JASPER
When I'm dressed warm as warm can be,
And with boots, to go
Through the deepest snow,
Winter-time is the time for me!
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poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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Queen of the Jungle
In the Jungle-
It is the feline who prevails
The pulse of the others
She takes and she steals
Slowly she struts
With grace and with ease
Never to others
Having to answer or appease
She truly is
The Queen of her throne
She is so graceful-
She is well known!
Fur that is golden
The walk of a Queen
Thirsty for blood
The thirst of a fien'd
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poem by Nicole Settimi
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The First Lord's Song
When I was a lad I served a term
As office boy to an Attorney's firm;
I cleaned the windows and I swept the floor,
And I polished up the handle of the big front door.
I polished up that handle so successfullee,
That now I am the Ruler of the Queen's Navee!
As office boy I made such a mark
That they gave me the post of a junior clerk;
I served the writs with a smile so bland,
And I copied all the letters in a big round hand.
I copied all the letters in a hand so free,
That now I am the Ruler of the Queen's Navee!
In serving writs I made such a name
That an articled clerk I soon became;
I wore clean collars and a brand-new suit
For the Pass Examination at the Institute:
And that Pass Examination did so well for me,
That now I am the Ruler of the Queen's Navee!
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poem by William Schwenck Gilbert
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Cleopatra’s glory
Cleopatra was the queen of Egypt;
Cleopatra was the queen of beauty.
She came to the throne at her eighteen
The first century BC witnessed it.
To get back her Egypt from her brother,
She sought the hand of Julius Caesar,
The mighty one Rome had ever seen,
And set to sell her asset of beauty.
While in exile, she was able to reach
Caesar when he chanced to visit Egypt,
By getting her smuggled in to his room,
Rolled up in a carpet sent as a gift
Cleopatra emerging from the roll,
Caesar was stunned and fell for her in love.
He made her queen of Egypt in no time
And made her his consort with all respects.
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poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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A Prayer For The King's Majesty
22nd January, 1901.
THE Queen is dead. God save the King,
In this his hour of grief,
When sorrow gathers memories in a sheaf
To lay them on his shoulders as he stands
Inheriting her glories and her lands--
First gain of his at which his Mother's voice
Has not been first to bless and to rejoice--
A man, set lonely between gain and loss.
(O words of love the heart remembereth,
O mighty loss outweighing every gain!)
A Son whose kingdom Death's arm lies across,
A King whose Mother lies alone with Death
Wrapped in the folds of white implacable sleep.
O God, who seest the tears Thy children weep,
O God, who countest each sad heart-beat, see
How our King needs the grace we ask of Thee!
Thou knowest how little and how vain a thing
Is Empire, when the heart is sick with pain--
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poem by Edith Nesbit
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The Princess And The Page
There is a legend—you have read it—
Of a fair page whom evil spells
Held in deep sleep; and men of credit
Tried all in vain, the story tells,
Week after week, by night and noon,
To wake him from his sombre swoon.
Till one, more knowing than the others,
Took counsel of the stars, and said:
'We may not rouse this youth, my brothers;
But if the queen will bow her head
And kiss him on the lips, his soul
Straight shall escape the fiend's control.'
'Then he must perish !' in loud chorus
The learned men lamenting cried;
'Better to let him die before us
Than see our queen abase her pride
And shame her fame from north to south,
Kissing a page upon the mouth.'
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poem by Harriet Monroe
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To The Queen Of England
COME forth! the world's aflame with flags and flowers,
The shout of bells fills full the shattered air,
This is the crown of all your golden hours,
More than all other hours august and fair;
This did the years prepare,
A triumph for our Lady and our Queen,
More rich than any king in any land hath seen.
Clothed are your streets with scarlet, gold, and blue,
Flowers under foot and banners over head,
And while your people's voice storms Heaven for you
About your way are voiceless blessings shed,
And over you are spread
Wide wings of love, free love, tamed to your hand,
Love that gold cannot buy, nor Majesty command.
Not these mere visible millions only, share
Your triumph--here all English hearts beat high,
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poem by Edith Nesbit
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