Quotes about flag, page 67
Italia
ITALIA! thou art fallen, though with sheen
Of battle-spears thy clamorous armies stride
From the north Alps to the Sicilian tide!
Ay! fallen, though the nations hail thee Queen
Because rich gold in every town is seen,
And on thy sapphire lake in tossing pride
Of wind-filled vans thy myriad galleys ride
Beneath one flag of red and white and green.
O Fair and Strong! O Strong and Fair in vain!
Look southward where Rome's desecrated town
Lies mourning for her God-anointed King!
Look heaven-ward! shall God allow this thing?
Nay! but some flame-girt Raphael shall come down,
And smite the Spoiler with the sword of pain.
poem by Oscar Wilde
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A Sonnet of Battle
RELUCTANT Morn, whose meagre radiance lies
With doubtful glimmer on the farthest hills,
How long shall men, reiterant of their ills,
With peevish invocation bid thee rise
To burn to noontide glory in the skies
That now a gloom perplexed and starless fills,
And seek from thee and not their own strong wills
That perfect good which is not bought with sighs?
Why weep and wait for thee, though laggard, Morn,
With all thy joys of love and peace and light?
For us the mightier joy that rives the soul,
When, slaves no longer to a day unborn,
Our flag of war along the dark we unroll
For fell encounter with the hosts of Night.
poem by William Gay
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Letting My Gaurd Down
If you can manage to
Catch me when i'm vunerable
At my weakest moment
You've found my gaurd let down
Search for a place in the wall
Less tended then the others
Where the edges are crumbling
And where i am more sensitive
You may be able to crack the codes
On the security alarm i've set
Dispose of my warning flags
And make your way in
But if you really want in
Don't breach my security
And flag up mistrust
To sneak your way in
[...] Read more
poem by Guarded Heart
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Think of Our Country's Glory
Think of our country's glory,
All dimm'd with Afric's tears—
Her broad flag stain'd and gory
With the hoarded guilt of years!
Think of the frantic mother,
Lamenting for her child,
Till falling lashes smother
Her cries of anguish wild!
Think of the prayers ascending,
Yet shriek'd, alas! in vain,
When heart from heart is rending
Ne'er to be join'd again.
Shall we behold, unheeding,
Life's holiest feelings crush'd?—
When woman's heart is bleeding,
Shall woman's voice be hush'd?
[...] Read more
poem by Elizabeth Margaret Chandler from Poetical Works
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Melville and Coghill - The Place Of The Little Hand
DEAD, with their eyes to the foe,
Dead, with the foe at their feet;
Under the sky laid low
Truly their slumber is sweet,
Though the wind from the Camp of the
Slain Men blow,
And the rain on the wilderness beat.
Dead, for they chose to die
When that wild race was run;
Dead, for they would not fly,
Deeming their work undone,
Nor cared to look on the face of the sky,
Nor loved the light of the sun.
Honor we give them and tears,
And the flag they died to save,
Rent from the raid of the spears,
Wet from the war and the wave,
Shall waft men’s thoughts through the dust of the years,
[...] Read more
poem by Andrew Lang
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Sonnet: Whither Thy Art, Man?
Yes, men and women, paint their eyelashes,
And dye their hair in hues and paint their nails;
And wear head-bands, multi-colored sashes,
And paint the tortoises and shells of snails.
Some paint their bodies fully or one-half;
Some paint their country’s flag over their face;
Some look like leopards, lions, clowns that laugh;
Some tattoo pictures or paint words so base.
Some paint their naked bodies as if dressed
Or apply stickers of men, Gods or beast;
Their art on human skins looks to them best
And dance in ritual for a sumptuous feast.
The art of man has gone so crazy now,
For men paint Dogs, cats, cattle, also cow.
poem by John Celes
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Christian Wulff
Den vide Verden Faae kun nævne kan,
Der var opoffrende og god, som han;
Den skjønne Guds Natur han havde kjær,
Og paa hans Bryst faldt Dødens Draabe der;
Een Smerte kun ham fyldte, stor og heel,
Forladt og i en anden Verdens Deel
Sin stakkels syge Søster han forlod.
Et Suk — hans Hjerte brast — hos Gud han stod.
Det danske Flag man ham om Kisten gav,
Hans Kjærlighed ham fulgte i hans Grav;
Et Egetræ strøer gyldent Løv paa den;
Sov sødt, sov vel, Du tro, Du kjære Ven!
Flyv lille Svale, Vindens Vei derhen,
Bring Hilsen ham, som kommer ei igjen,
Hvis blaa og milde Øine vi først see
Der, hvor ei meer er Død og Hjertevee!
poem by Hans Christian Andersen
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Emigravit
WITH sails full set, the ship her anchor weighs.
Strange names shine out beneath her figure head.
What glad farewells with eager eyes are said!
What cheer for him who goes, and him who stays!
Fair skies, rich lands, new homes, and untried days
Some go to seek: the rest but wait instead,
Watching the way wherein their comrades led,
Until the next stanch ship her flag doth raise.
Who knows what myriad colonies there are
Of fairest fields, and rich, undreamed-of gains
Thick planted in the distant shining plains
Which we call sky because they lie so far?
Oh, write of me, not “Died in bitter pains,”
But “Emigrated to another star!”
poem by Helen Hunt Jackson
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Rhyme: Close The Door
Remember the simple life
When students bowed heads to pray?
If asked why teachers answered,
'That's the American way! '
Brothers walked dirt roads to school,
Carried lunch in a brown bag.
Small right hands covered big hearts,
Pledged allegiance to our flag.
Parents helped with homework and
Taught their children right from wrong.
'God Bless America' was
Our countrymen's freedom song.
Sunday was a day of rest
Set aside for families.
Fried chicken and apple pie
Graced tables and men said please.
On Monday the school bell rang,
Calling the youngsters once more.
Schoolrooms bring back memories—
Come inside and close the door.
poem by Caryl Ramsdale
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The Descendents Of Cain
He did not lie – the ghost, so sad and thoughtful,
That from a star took his name by a chance,
When he had said, “Don’t fear the Lord”, to us,
“Just try the fruit and be like Him immortal”.
All routs for youths were opened in glow,
And all forbidden works – for older ones,
And amber fruits -- for gaily girls, at once,
And the rhinoceros forever white as snow.
But why we lean, bereft of any strength,
And feel that someone has forgot all us at length,
And grasp the dread of the old lure, if only
By an easy hand of someone, by a chance,
Two little sticks (flag’s poles, leaves of grass)
Will be united in the cross infirmly?
poem by Nikolai Stepanovich Gumilev
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