Posts Tagged ‘historical’


Surrounded, pampered –
Plymouth Rock.


The picture is mine of Plymouth Rock at Plymouth, Massachusetts.


* 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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What was that man General George Custer?
A hero? A braggart? All bluster?
A peacock for public and papers?
No substance, mere image and vapors? 

What was that man General George Custer?
A name that should live on in luster?
Or was he a fool who crusaded
For honor – so error pervaded? 

At Big Horn the big man was little;
His life and his men’s were all brittle.
A soldier, he sought fame and glory
His death, to this day, is the story.


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

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(Mobile Bay, August 5, 1864)

Farragut, Farragut,
Old Heart of Oak,
Daring Dave Farragut,
Thunderbolt stroke,
Watches the hoary mist
Lift from the bay,
Till his flag, glory-kissed,
Greets the young day. 

Far, by gray Morgan’s walls,
Looms the black fleet.
Hark, deck to rampart calls
With the drums’ beat!
Buoy your chains overboard,
While the steam hums;
Men! to the battlement,
Farragut comes. 

See, as the hurricane
Hurtles in wrath
Squadrons of clouds amain
Back from its path!
Back to the parapet,
To the guns’ lips,
Thunderbolt Farragut
Hurls the black ships. 

Now through the battle roar
Clear the boy sings,
“By the mark fathoms four,”
While his lead swings.
Steady the wheelmen five
“Nor’ by East keep her,”
“Steady,” but two alive:
How the shells sweep her! 

Lashed to the mast that sways
Over red decks,
Over the flame that plays
Round the torn wrecks,
Over the dying lips
Framed for a cheer,
Farragut leads his ships,
Guides the line clear. 

On by heights cannon-browed,
While the spars quiver;
Onward still flames the cloud
Where the hulks shiver.
See, yon fort’s star is set,
Storm and fire past.
Cheer him, lads – Farragut,
Lashed to the mast! 

Oh! while Atlantic’s breast
Bears a white sail,
While the Gulf’s towering crest
Tops a green vale,
Men thy bold deeds shall tell,
Old Heart of Oak,
Daring Dave Farragut,
Thunderbolt stroke!


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(Photo credit: Wikipedia)

The Destruction Of Sennacherib

The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold,
And his cohorts were gleaming with purple and gold;
And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea,
When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee. 

Like the leaves of the forest when Summer is green,
That host with their banners at sunset were seen;
Like the leaves of the forest when Autumn hath blown,
That host on the morrow lay withered and strown. 

For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast,
And breathed in the face of the foe as he passed;
And the eyes of the sleepers waxed deadly and chill,
And their hearts but once heaved, and for ever grew still! 

And there lay the steed with his nostrils all wide,
But through them there rolled not the breath of his pride;
And the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf,
And cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf. 

And there lay the rider, distorted and pale,
With the dew on his brow, and the rust on his mail;
And the tents were all silent, the banners alone,
The lances unlifted, the trumpet unblown. 

And the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail,
And the idols are broken in the temple of Baal;
And the might of the Gentile, unsmote by the sword,
Hath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord.


I think I’ll vote for this one as the greatest historical
poem of all time.  Any other nominees?  the bard o t h


II Kings 18:13 – II Kings 19, especially 19:35,36
* It is interesting that Sennacherib’s records speak of
conquering city after city but says, by contrast, that
he shut up Hezekiah like a bird in a cage.  He laid
seige to the city, but his army was struck down during
the night and he went back to Nineveh.



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