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The Virtues of Believing

Foxes with pretty smiles competing for badges:
While the final battle looms nearer- as death has its way
Over the pretty chariots and the purple wedding
Processions,
As I proposition my heart for her, and the maggots turn into
Flies, smiling so many ways in their eyes:
As my parents’ home is repossessed by the bank:
As the mountain is repossessed by the sea- and it all flies away,
As the strata grows deeper and more mystifying:
While upon the birthday cake I watched Alma blow her wishes:
And for a moment they all must have seemed to come true
Until the dreamer arose
Accepting the inevitable absence of belief: the dead were dead
And un colorful, and the moon had arisen but was a thief:
And the light it was giving to the holocaust of languishing sailors
Was sending them the wrong way,
And shipwrecking the righteous upon the petulance of reef:
The baseball players were harpies, and Jason never found the fleece:
And the virtues of believing were all beyond belief.

poem by Bret R. Crabrooke
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Ode To Life

Oh to be born and accept the forgetting
into a life of stress and fretting
does not seem fair
since we forget from where
we came.

We take on the trials of life on earth
and soon cannot remember
what peace there was before we came.
A died out ember
for me in December.

Awakened to a new purpose for now
and so we finally learn somehow
to encompass life,
all joy and strife
and live.

We find new joys in girls and boys
playing with their earthly toys.

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poem by Edwina Reizer
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A Death Song

What cometh here from west to east awending?
And who are these, the marchers stern and slow?
We bear the message that the rich are sending
Aback to those who bade them wake and know.
Not one, not one, nor thousands must they slay,
But one and all if they would dusk the day.

We asked them for a life of toilsome earning,
They bade us bide their leisure for our bread;
We craved to speak to tell our woeful learning;
We come back speechless, bearing back our dead.
Not one, not one, nor thousands must they slay,
But one and all if they would dusk the day.

They will not learn; they have no ears to hearken.
They turn their faces from the eyes of fate;
Their gay-lit halls shut out the skies that darken.
But, lo! this dead man knocking at the gate.
Not one, not one, nor thousands must they slay,
But one and all if they would dusk the day.

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poem by William Morris
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Persevered

Well then I fought the monsters
And then I fought their
Young:
So like tattooed stewardesses with
All of their body scars:
And they were so flexible,
And they were gymnasts—or then they
Were entire constellations
And we were hanging around until Christmas
Across the easements—we were
So easily hung up—mouthless—song-bird less,
And I swore that you could not describe
My last monument towards you:
But the way to you turned out to be in echoes
And skateboards while the alley cats
Were cleaning their mouths of fried chicken and other
Uncertain forget-me-nots—
Dastardly awakening upon the frontier between here
And Mexico,
And why won’t you awaken—muse with my better

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poem by Bret R. Crabrooke
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Fragments Written For Hellas

I.
Fairest of the Destinies,
Disarray thy dazzling eyes:
Keener far thy lightnings are
Than the winged [bolts] thou bearest,
And the smile thou wearest
Wraps thee as a star
Is wrapped in light.

II.
Could Arethuse to her forsaken urn
From Alpheus and the bitter Doris run,
Or could the morning shafts of purest light
Again into the quivers of the Sun
Be gathered—could one thought from its wild flight
Return into the temple of the brain
Without a change, without a stain,--
Could aught that is, ever again
Be what it once has ceased to be,
Greece might again be free!

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poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
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An Anthem To Freedom

Were you there when Jesus bled
Before the cross, in sins were dead
By your hand in Christ were led
On to victory

Now's the day and now's the hour
Stand with Christ and stand in power
He's our Rock and strong High Tower
We're free from slavery

So will you come and fight the fight
March in the day and not the night
We will send them all to flight
This will be our day

Free men march and free men die
And all proclaim our God on high
His glory fills the earth and sky
Come Lord soon we pray

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poem by Frank McEleny
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The Mole Part Three

Kaum ist's vorbei mit dem Trara,
So ist der Wühler wieder da.

When all is quiet, as before,
The burrower appears once more.

Schnupp! dringt die Schaufel wie der Blitz
Dem Maulwurf unter seinen Sitz.

Knoll thrusts his spade and, doing so,
Attacks the creature from below.

Und mit Hurra in einem Bogen
Wird er herauf ans Licht gezogen.

Hoorah! And in a graceful arc

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poem by Wilhelm Busch
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During A Journey In Sweden

My boyish heart in thee confided,
For to the great by thee 't was guided.
As man, my waiting is for thee,-

The Northern cause with thee, with thee!

Rich lands and talents are thy dower,
But fallow lie thy wealth and power.

Thou must the North in concord bind,
Or never shalt thy true self find.

There's longing in thy folk arisen,
Poetic hope-but yet in prison.
Though forces great within thee dwell,
Thou art not wholly sound and well.

Too many things are undertaken,

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poem by Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson
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The Wind Of March

Up from the sea, the wild north wind is blowing
Under the sky's gray arch;
Smiling, I watch the shaken elm-boughs, knowing
It is the wind of March.

Between the passing and the coming season,
This stormy interlude
Gives to our winter-wearied hearts a reason
For trustful gratitude.

Welcome to waiting ears its harsh forewarning
Of light and warmth to come,
The longed-for joy of Nature's Easter morning,
The earth arisen in bloom.

In the loud tumult winter's strength is breaking;
I listen to the sound,
As to a voice of resurrection, waking
To life the dead, cold ground.

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poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
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How I Walked Alone in the Jungles of Heaven

Oh, once I walked in Heaven, all alone
Upon the sacred cliffs above the sky.
God and the angels, and the gleaming saints
Had journeyed out into the stars to die.

They had gone forth to win far citizens,
Bought at great price, bring happiness for all:
By such a harvest make a holier town
And put new life within old Zion's wall.

Each chose a far-off planet for his home,
Speaking of love and mercy, truth and right,
Envied and cursed, thorn-crowned and scourged in time,
Each tasted death on his appointed night.

Then resurrection day from sphere to sphere
Sped on, with all the POWERS arisen again,
While with them came in clouds recruited hosts
Of sun-born strangers and of earth-born men.

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poem by Vachel Lindsay
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