A Baker’s Duzzen Uv Wize Sawz by Edward Rowland Sill

Them ez wants, must choose.
Them ez hez, must lose.
Them ez knows, won’t blab.
Them ez guesses, will gab.
Them ez borrows, sorrows.
Them ez lends, spends.
Them ez gives, lives.
Them ez keeps dark, is deep.
Them ez kin earn, kin keep.
Them ez aims, hits.
Them ez hez, gits.
Them ez waits, win.
Them ez will, kin.

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George Washington And Smallpox by Dennis Allen Lange

—

Of vaccinate, Washington said, “No!”
Emphatic he was. “Out you go
…If as soldiers you do,
…Then as soldiers you’re through!”
But he changed his mind, ending woe.

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Vaccination was primitive in Washington’s time. Pus from
a smallpox victim was put into a wound to inoculate
another, giving them (for the most part) a slight case of
smallpox and immunity, though a few even died.  When
Washington changed his mind and had his army inoculated,
the death rate in his army associated with smallpox went
from 160 out of 1000 to 3 of 1000.

————————————————————–

© Dennis Allen Lange, 2019.

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Why So Pale And Wan? by Sir John Suckling

Why so pale and wan, fond lover?
Prithee why so pale?
Will, when looking well can’t move her,
Looking ill prevail?
Prithee why so pale?

Why so dull and mute young sinner?
Prithee why so mute?
Will, when speaking well can’t win her,
Saying nothing do’t?
Prithee why so mute?

Quit, quit for shame, this will not move,
This cannot take her;
If of herself she will not love,
Nothing can make her;
The devil take her.

 

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Boundary – haiku by Dennis Allen Lange

—

Tide goes to
Line in the water,
No farther.

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The photo is mine, of a line in the water that I thought might be a tidal line
near the Penobscot Narrows Bridge in Maine.

—————————-

* The haiku I write are lines of 3-5-3 syllables instead of 5-7-5.

See Haiku article here for explanation, if needed: https://thebardonthehill.wordpress.com/2011/08/08/haiku/
——————–

© Dennis Allen Lange, 2019.

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To The Republicans Of North America by Percy Bysshe Shelley

I.
Brothers! between you and me
Whirlwinds sweep and billows roar:
Yet in spirit oft I see
On thy wild and winding shore
Freedom’s bloodless banners wave,–
Feel the pulses of the brave
Unextinguished in the grave,–
See them drenched in sacred gore,–
Catch the warrior’s gasping breath
Murmuring ‘Liberty or death!’

II.
Shout aloud! Let every slave,
Crouching at Corruption’s throne,
Start into a man, and brave
Racks and chains without a groan:
And the castle’s heartless glow,
And the hovel’s vice and woe,
Fade like gaudy flowers that blow–
Weeds that peep, and then are gone
Whilst, from misery’s ashes risen,
Love shall burst the captive’s prison.

III.
Cotopaxi! bid the sound
Through thy sister mountains ring,
Till each valley smile around
At the blissful welcoming!
And, O thou stern Ocean deep,
Thou whose foamy billows sweep
Shores where thousands wake to weep
Whilst they curse a villain king,
On the winds that fan thy breast
Bear thou news of Freedom’s rest!

IV.
Can the daystar dawn of love,
Where the flag of war unfurled
Floats with crimson stain above
The fabric of a ruined world?
Never but to vengeance driven
When the patriot’s spirit shriven
Seeks in death its native Heaven!
There, to desolation hurled,
Widowed love may watch thy bier,
Balm thee with its dying tear.

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The Presentation by Dennis Allen Lange

(This poem is in my book, available at Amazon.)

A merchant, wise, spreads out his wares
   So passing buyers see;
Attracted to the beauty, they
   Inspect admiringly.

The one who’s selling precious stones
   Found deep inside a mine,
Will lay their sparkles up against
   A background, so their shine

And color contrast with the cloth
   That he on table lays,
Thus framing them and drawing forth
     The greatest gushing praise.

And so it is with those rare jew’ls
   On which mankind has gazed
Through all the ages we’ve sojourned –
   And still we are amazed.

The poets pen; the songsters sing;
   The lovers’ hearts are warmed;
The dreamer ponders mysteries,
   And all are daily charmed.

Those shining gems against the black,
   God placed precisely, right.
Like diamonds, He spread stars against
   The velvet of the night.

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The Maid Freed From The Gallows – anonymous

” Slack your rope, hangs-a-man,
O slack it for a while;
I think I see my father coming,
Riding many a mile. ”
” O father, have you brought me gold?
Or have you paid my fee?
Or have you come to see me hanging
On the gallows-tree? ”
” I have not brought you gold;
I have not paid your fee;
But I have come to see you hanging
On the gallows-tree. ”

” Slack your rope, hangs-a-man,
O slack it for a while;
I think I see my mother coming,
Riding many a mile. ”
” O mother, have you brought me gold?
Or have you paid my fee?
Or have you come to see me hanging
On the gallows-tree? ”
” I have not brought you gold;
I have not paid your fee;
But I have come to see you hanging
On the gallows-tree. ”
(And so on for brother, sister, aunt, uncle, cousin, etc.)

” Slack your rope, hangs-a-man,
O slack it for a while;
I think I see my true-love coming
Riding many a mile. ”
” O true-love, have you brought me gold?
Or have you paid my fee?
Or have you come to see me hanging
On the gallows-tree? ”
” Yes, I have brought you gold;
Yes, I have paid your fee;
Nor have I come to see you hanging
On the gallows-tree. ”

———————————————————

song (4:07) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M2YzDPL_osg

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Bennington High Point – haiku by Dennis Allen Lange

—
Monument
Apex of Vermont
Of man’s works.

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The picture is mine of the Vermont Battle Monument in Bennington.
It commemorates the Battle of Bennington in the American Revolutionary War.

—————————–

* The haiku I write are lines of 3-5-3 syllables instead of 5-7-5.

See Haiku article here for explanation, if needed: https://thebardonthehill.wordpress.com/2011/08/08/haiku/
—————————-

© Dennis Allen Lange, 2019.

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The Promise by Oliver Wendell Holmes

Not charity we ask,
Nor yet thy gift refuse;
Please thy light fancy with the easy task
Only to look and choose. 

The little-heeded toy
That wins thy treasured gold
May be the dearest memory, holiest joy,
Of coming years untold. 

Heaven rains on every heart,
But there its showers divide,
The drops of mercy choosing, as they part,
The dark or glowing side. 

One kindly deed may turn
The fountain of thy soul
To love’s sweet day-star, that shall o’er thee burn
Long as its currents roll! 

The pleasures thou hast planned, –
Where shall their memory be
When the white angel with the freezing hand
Shall sit and watch by thee? 

Living, thou dost not live,
If mercy’s spring run dry;
What Heaven has lent thee wilt thou freely give,
Dying, thou shalt not die! 

He promised even so!
To thee his lips repeat, –
Behold, the tears that soothed thy sister’s woe
Have washed thy Master’s feet.

 

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Normandy by Dennis Allen Lange

—

The waves, as ocean waves will do,
…Rolled toward the sandy beach.
Wave after wave rolled from the sea
…To stretch toward land and reach.

Once there, the sand resisted more,
…And waves died on its breast.
But wave and wave and wave rolled in
…Without a moment’s rest.

The sand stood firm in its defense
…And dunes and cliffs stood guard.
But still the waves in stubborn lines
…Rolled in, though it was hard.

And inch by costly inch was gained:
…The waves rolled farther in
And made the beach dark with the stain
…They left as dying men.

Still onward rolled the wondrous waves;
…Still higher rose the tide,
Until the land was o’ercome by
…What could not be denied.

——————————————————————

© Dennis Allen Lange, 2019.

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