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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Sonnet 113 – Shed Tears For Boston by Dennis Allen Lange

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Shed tears for Boston and the troubled tea,
That toast in harbor’s glass to tyranny.
The glass, when raised, was flung into the face
Of one enthroned across an ocean’s space. 

Shed tears for Boston and the colonies
Who felt the anaconda’ deadly squeeze,
The air of life pressed from their breasts and backs
By an oppressive rule and heavy tax. 

Shed tears for Boston who’s been newly led
By liberals by whom their blood was bled –
A brainless Barney Frank’s economy
And “want more government” Ted Kennedy.

Shed tears for Boston now, that once was free,
But slid back to a royal tyranny.

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© Dennis Allen Lange, 2019.

 

 

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What Is Good? by John Boyle O’Reilly

“What is the real good?”
I ask in musing mood.

“Order,” said the law court;
“Knowledge,” said the school;
“Truth,” said the wise man;
“Pleasure,” said the fool;
“Love,” said the maiden;
“Beauty,” said the page;
“Freedom,” said the dreamer;
“Home,” said the sage;
“Fame,” said the soldier;
“Equity,” said the seer.
Spake my heart fully sad:
“The answer is not here.” 

Then within my bosom
Softly this I heard:
“Each heart holds the secret:
‘Kindness’ is the word.”

 

 

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The Mission Of San Antonio De Valero by Dennis Allen Lange

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(The seige of the Alamo ended 181 years ago
on March 6, 1836 when the Alamo fell and its
defenders were killed.)

This story of heroes all free men should know,
Of last stand of eagles protecting their nest –
Remember the men of the famed Alamo.

They stood in the way of an armed Mexico,
Like dunes on a beach slow a wave’s swollen crest.
This story of heroes all free men should know.

Surrounded, out-numbered, hope melting like snow,
They proved to the world that it’s freedom that’s best.
Remember the men of the famed Alamo.

An offer, by Travis, to stay or to go.
Those brave men stepped forward and Texas was blessed.
This story of heroes all free men should know.

Deguello, no quarter, was played by the foe
Yet nary a champion abandoned the quest.
Remember the men of the famed Alamo.

A Crockett, a Bowie, and others cut low
In glory and honor are their names now dressed
This story of heroes all free men should know.
Remember the men of the famed Alamo.

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The photo is mine.

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© Dennis Allen Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2017.

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Martin Luther King, Jr. by Dennis Lange

King dreamed that he would say (when chains were past
Or strands so thin and few), these words long overdue,
“Thank God Almighty, we are free at last!”

Though Egypt was behind, her reach was vast.
And like the wind, he blew winged words that fell like dew.
King dreamed a dream when all the chains were past.

His voice was Gabriel’s mighty trumpet blast;
The march began on cue, toward Canaan’s words and view,
“Thank God Almighty, we are free at last!”

His dream? – by hate and pharaohs not harassed;
Men judged, not by their hue; a future bright and new.
King dreamed a dream when all the chains were past.

Upon the farther shore, his people massed,
The sea returned and blue, they’d shout because they knew,
“Thank God Almighty, we are free at last!”

Let go the broken chains! Away, them cast!
The speech and dream came true, for all who dare and do.
And now men say, since all their chains are past:
“Thank God Almighty, we are free at last!”

—

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© Dennis Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2016.

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Sonnet 76 – Free To Be Me by Dennis Lange

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I never was a master or a slave,
Though maybe one, or both, is in my blood.
By kinsmen past is not how I behave
If in me now by drop or even flood. 

What’s gone before is but a sketch that’s pale,
While I am busy now with paint in hand
With all the colors of my present tale
To make my life a masterpiece that’s grand. 

If all my colors clash, there’s none to blame –
Not ghosts or genes or skin or governments.
I am the one responsible for fame
Or failure, not the long ago, or once. 

That some take umbrage at a distant flag
Shows chains of slav’ry that their minds still drag.
—

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© Dennis Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2015.

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London, 1802 by William Wordsworth

Milton! thou shouldst be living this hour:
England hath need of thee: she is a fen
Of stagnant waters: altar, sword, and pen,
Fireside, the heroic wealth of hall and bower,
Have forfeited their ancient English dower
Of inward happiness. We are selfish men;
Oh! raise us up, return to us again;
And give us manners, virtue, freedom, power.
Thy soul was like a Star, and dwelt apart;
Thou hadst a voice whose sound was like the sea:
Pure as the naked heavens, majestic, free,
So didst thou travel on life’s common way,
In cheerful godliness; and yet thy heart
The lowliest duties on herself did lay.

 

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Three Miscellaneous Haiku by Dennis Lange

I Always Am

Certainly,
I am listening.
I’m all ears.

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Can’t Have One Without The Other

Monument
To George Washington,
To freedom.

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Fiery End

Sun goes down
But not without fight.
It flames out.

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Always – photo by Purplepic at http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/mxr5Pio/Rabbit

Can’t – photo by Nicolas Raymond at http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/nFtEIdk/Washington+Monument+Silhouette

Fiery – photo by Janet Beasley at http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/mXpp3WU/Sunsets

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* 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/

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© Dennis Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2015.

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Harriet Beecher Stowe by Paul Laurence Dunbar

She told the story, and the whole world wept
…At wrongs and cruelties it had not known
…But for this fearless woman’s voice alone.
…She spoke to consciences that long had slept:
Her message, Freedom’s clear reveille, swept
…From heedless hovel to complacent throne.
…Command and prophecy were in the tone
…And from its sheath the sword of justice leapt.
Around two peoples swelled a fiery wave,
…But both came forth transfigured from the flame.
Blest be the hand that dared be strong to save,
…And blest be she who in our weakness came –
…Prophet and priestess! At one stroke she gave
…A race to freedom and herself to fame.

 

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To The Right Honorable William, Earl Of Dartmouth by Phillis Wheatley

…Should you, my lord, while you pursue my song,
Wonder from whence my love of Freedom sprung,
Whence flow these wishes for the common good,
By feeling hearts alone best understood,
I, young in life, by seeming cruel fate
Was snatch’d from Afric’s fancy happy seat:
What pangs excruciating must molest,
What sorrows labour in my parent’s breast?
Steel’d was the soul and by no misery mov’d
That from a father seiz’d his babe belov’d.
Such, such my case. And can I then but pray
Others may never feel tyrannic sway?

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