Quotes about roar, page 17
Craven
Over the turret, shut in his iron-clad tower,
Craven was conning his ship through smoke and flame;
Gun to gun he had battered the fort for an hour,
Now was the time for a charge to end the game.
There lay the narrowing channel, smooth and grim,
A hundred deaths beneath it, and never a sign;
There lay the enemy's ships, and sink or swim
The flag was flying, and he was head of the line.
The fleet behind was jamming; the monitor hung
Beating the stream; the roar for a moment hushed,
Craven spoke to the pilot; slow she swung;
Again he spoke, and right for the foe she rushed.
Into the narrowing channel, between the shore
And the sunk torpedoes lying in treacherous rank;
She turned but a yard too short; a muffled roar,
A mountainous wave, and she rolled, righted, and sank.
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poem by Sir Henry Newbolt
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Birds Of Prey March
March! The mud is cakin' good about our trousies.
Front! -- eyes front, an' watch the Colour-casin's drip.
Front! The faces of the women in the 'ouses
Ain't the kind o' things to take aboard the ship.
Cheer! An' we'll never march to victory.
Cheer! An' we'll never live to 'ear the cannon roar!
The Large Birds o' Prey
They will carry us away,
An' you'll never see your soldiers any more!
Wheel! Oh, keep your touch; we're goin' round a corner.
Time! -- mark time, an' let the men be'ind us close.
Lord! the transport's full, an' 'alf our lot not on 'er --
Cheer, O cheer! We're going off where no one knows.
March! The Devil's none so black as 'e is painted!
Cheer! We'll 'ave some fun before we're put away.
'Alt, an' 'and 'er out -- a woman's gone and fainted!
Cheer! Get on -- Gawd 'elp the married men to-day!
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poem by Rudyard Kipling
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Obsession
Grands bois, vous m'effrayez comme des cathédrales;
Vous hurlez comme l'orgue; et dans nos coeurs maudits,
Chambres d'éternel deuil où vibrent de vieux râles,
Répondent les échos de vos De profundis.
Je te hais, Océan! tes bonds et tes tumultes,
Mon esprit les retrouve en lui; ce rire amer
De l'homme vaincu, plein de sanglots et d'insultes,
Je l'entends dans le rire énorme de la mer
Comme tu me plairais, ô nuit! sans ces étoiles
Dont la lumière parle un langage connu!
Car je cherche le vide, et le noir, et le nu!
Mais les ténèbres sont elles-mêmes des toiles
Où vivent, jaillissant de mon oeil par milliers,
Des êtres disparus aux regards familiers.
Obsession
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poem by Charles Baudelaire
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This Spiraling Cliff
mmm
The subject matter and the topic,
You have chosen to discuss
Is most interesting.
You hint,
That a boat floating
Once with an incompetent commander,
Unaware of it floating towards the edge
Of a waterfall cascading at unquestionable speed.
And had been warned of this danger
Should 'not' be the one found at fault.
Because the waterfall at the time of his leadership
Was not as close as it is today?
And the new commander recently taking helm
Who dares to turn the ship away,
From this spiraling cliff
With reason to believe all aboard,
Face eminent and devastating danger?
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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Cui Bono
Oh! wind that whistles o'er thorns and thistles,
Of this fruitful earth like a goblin elf;
Why should he labour to help his neighbour
Who feels too reckless to help himself?
The wail of the breeze in the bending trees
Is something between a laugh and a groan;
And the hollow roar of the surf on the shore
Is a dull, discordant monotone;
I wish I could guess what sense they express,
There's a meaning, doubtless, in every sound,
Yet no one can tell, and it may be as well —
Whom would it profit? — The world goes round!
On this earth so rough we know quite enough,
And, I sometimes fancy, a little too much;
The sage may be wiser than clown or than kaiser,
Is he more to be envied for being such?
Neither more nor less, in his idleness
The sage is doom'd to vexation sure;
The kaiser may rule, but the slippery stool,
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poem by Adam Lindsay Gordon
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The Tiger
Do you ever get that feeling that
You’re flying, or you’re dying, and
You’re watching, like it happened once before?
When your mind is rather hazy, or disturbed
And much too lazy to remember where
You saw that scene you saw?
I just get this one returning, like
A ghost that's finished haunting
Other folk, but who has settled now on me.
But I know that I remember that this
Ghost of mid-December was a Terry James
I knew when I was three.
He would start his Triumph Tiger while
Enraptured by the window I
Would watch him in his leathers and his jeans,
Then he’d stroke his tank and wave me, for he
Always called me Davey; 'little Davey'
He would say, for I was three.
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poem by David Lewis Paget
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Alphabetical Mirrored Phantom Quest For Infinity
Although beliefs creating dream existence fan great hopes'
infinity, judge! Knelled linchpin only, permanence quivering,
resurrection seems thesis untenable, verity's xylem yarn zapped..
Age blasts choice despite early force,
grief here in jail knots life's momentary nirvana opening,
pleasure quits room so that vanishing willpower xeroxes yesterday's zone.
Anguish, bleeding, cries dimly, evidence fades, ghostly halo iridescent jeopardized, knocked like mirage nuance, opportunity passed, quintessential role's stream terminated, unviable vision, wasted XY zoom.
All below clears,
dust embalms fears,
glad hearts ice.
Just karmic lice,
Mother Nature or
phantom quest's roar?
Soon tale's undone,
venture wide xenon.
Youthful zoon
after brief cycle,
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poem by Jonathan Robin
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Danube And The Euxine
'Danube, Danube! wherefore com'st thou
Red and raging to my caves?
Wherefore leap thy swollen waters
Madly through the broken waves?
Wherefore is thy tide so sullied
With a hue unknown to me;
Wherefore dost thou bring pollution
To the old and sacred sea?'
'Ha! rejoice, old Father Euxine!
I am brimming full and red;
Noble tidings do I carry
From my distant channel-bed.
I have been a Christian river
Dull and slow this many a year,
Rolling down my torpid waters
Through a silence morne and drear;
Have not felt the tread of armies
Trampling on my reedy shore;
Have not heard the trumpet calling,
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poem by William Edmondstoune Aytoun
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Johanna Sebus
THE DAM BREAKS DOWN, THE ICE-PLAIN GROWLS,
THE FLOODS ARISE, THE WATER HOWLS.
"I'll bear thee, mother, across the swell,
'Tis not yet high, I can wade right well."
"Remember us too! in what danger are we!
Thy fellow-lodger, and children three!
The trembling woman!--Thou'rt going away!"
She bears the mother across the spray.
"Quick! haste to the mound, and awhile there wait,
I'll soon return, and all will be straight.
The mound's close by, and safe from the wet;
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poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
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Stone Angel
You are the reason for my pain,
You are the reason I stand in the rain.
I wouldn't be here by choice,
But I was forced, and I can still hear your voice.
I push the memory of you away,
But somehow it always finds a way to stay.
You are the one who hurt me, who stole my rights,
And now I have to endure lonely nights.
You put me in this place,
I remember what you did, I remember your face.
And now I stand, in rain, in sun,
If it weren't for what you did, I'd run.
I'd run faster than you,
I would run until I could find away to start new.
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poem by Bethany Maxwell
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