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Poems about Tribute
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I that have been a lover, and could show it,
Though not in these, in rhymes not wholly dumb,
My arms have mutinied against me -- brutes!
My fingers fidget like ten idle brats,
WHEN from my cheek I lift my veil,
The roses turn with envy pale,
Clad in all their brightest green, This day verdant fields are seen;
Wide lies Australia! The seas that surround her
Flow for her unity – all states in one.
"Stormy's dead," I heard them say, "he's dead and gone to rest";
Of all the skippers I have known old Stormy was the best,
To draw no envy, Shakespeare, on thy name,
Am I thus ample to thy book and fame;
To all dispersed sorts of arts and trades
I write the needles prayse (that never fades).
Oh, never let on to your own true love
That ever you drank a drop;
The appointed lot has come upon me, mother, The mournful ending of my years of strife,
When the wars of the world seemed ended, and silent the distant drum,
Ten years ago in Australia, I wrote of a war to come:
O eye, weep tears continually flowing,
weep for Tauba in hidden fear;
"Was I at Eureka?" His figure was drawn to a youthful height,
And a flood of proud recollections made the fire in his grey eyes brig
Moondeen, the eldest of the river tribe, too old for the council of elders,
A little soul scarce fledged for earth
Takes wing with heaven again for goal
You bid me not to love too well,
To clip my fancy's wings;
Thousands of years, before the ships came by, He watched the uncounted sunsets flame and die,
Here lies a Dog.- may every Dog that dies
Lie in security - as this Dog lies.
Para Aragón, en España,
Tengo yo en mi corazón
The ships that trade foreign, to London they bear
Their cargoes unnumbered both common and rare,
The Poet's dead! - a slave to honor - He fell, by rumor slandered,
Through yon little planting, by yonder streamside,
Where Ribble's sweet waters flow softly and wide,
Between the grey hill and the sky
The chill west wind goes wandering by
Juan Ponce de Leon, by the Devil led,
With years weighed down and crammed with antique lore,
A dandy old horserman is Brigalow Mick-
Which his name, sir, is Michael O'Dowd -
Good-night! the horn's faint music
Through the twilight fades away:
And they were stronger hands than mine
That digged the Ruby from the earth--
Robert (Robbie) Burns [1759-1796]
A life that spanned less than 40 years but this man has left an indelible mark on the world
There's a dark an' dirty wineshop on a waterfront I know, An' a cross-eyed Dago keeps it — or he kep' it years ago —
To see the moment holds a madrigal,
To find some cloistered place, some hermitage
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