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There is always safety in valor.

quote by Ralph Waldo Emerson
Added by Lucian Velea
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Safety Dance

Ssss-aaaa-ffff-eeee-tttt-yyyy
Safety-dance!
Ah we can dance if we want to, we can leave your friends behind
Cause your friends dont dance and if they dont dance
Well theyre are no friends of mine
I say, we can go where we want to, a place where they will never find
And we can act like we come from out of this world
Leave the real one far behind,
And we can dance
We can dance if we want to, we can leave your friends behind
Cause your friends dont dance and if they dont dance
Well theyre are no friends of mine
I say, we can go where we want to a place where they will never find
And we can act like we come from out of this world
Leave the real one far behind
And we can dance.
Dancez!
Ah we can go when we want to the night is young and so am i
And we can dress real neat from our hats to our feet
And surprise em with the victory cry
I say we can act if want to if we dont nobody will
And you can act real rude and totally removed
And I can act like an imbecile
I say we can dance, we can dance everything out control
We can dance, we can dance were doing it wall to wall
We can dance, we can dance everybody look at your hands
We can dance, we can dance everybody takin the chance
Safety dance
Oh well the safety dance
Ah yes the safety dance
Ssss-aaaa-ffff-eeee-tttt-yyyy
Safety-dance
We can dance if we want to, weve got all your life and mine
As long as we abuse it, never gonna lose it
Everythingll work out right
I say, we can dance if we want to we can leave your friends behind
Cause your friends dont dance and if they dont dance
Well theyre are no friends of mine
I say we can dance, we can dance everything out of control
We can dance, we can dance were doing it wall to wall
We can dance, we can dance everybody look at your hands
We can dance, we can dance everybodys takin the chance
Oh well the safety dance
Ah yes the safety dance
Oh well the safety dance
Oh well the safety dance
Oh yes the safety dance
Oh the safety dance yeah
Oh its the safety dance
Its the safety dance

[...] Read more

song performed by Men Without Hats
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Safety Dance

Ssss-aaaa-ffff-eeee-tttt-yyyy
Safety-dance!
Ah we can dance if we want to, we can leave your friends behind
Cause your friends dont dance and if they dont dance
Well theyre are no friends of mine
I say, we can go where we want to, a place where they will never find
And we can act like we come from out of this world
Leave the real one far behind,
And we can dance
We can dance if we want to, we can leave your friends behind
Cause your friends dont dance and if they dont dance
Well theyre are no friends of mine
I say, we can go where we want to a place where they will never find
And we can act like we come from out of this world
Leave the real one far behind
And we can dance.
Francois!
Ah we can go when we want to the night is young and so am i
And we can dress real neat from our hats to our feet
And surprise em with the victory cry
I say we can act if want to if we dont nobody will
And you can act real rude and totally removed
And I can act like an imbecile
I say we can dance, we can dance everything out control
We can dance, we can dance were doing it wall to wall
We can dance, we can dance everybody look at your hands
We can dance, we can dance everybody takin the chance
Safety dance
Oh well the safety dance
Ah yes the safety dance
Ssss-aaaa-ffff-eeee-tttt-yyyy
Safety-dance
We can dance if we want to, weve got all your life and mine
As long as we abuse it, never gonna lose it
Everythingll work out right
I say, we can dance if we want to we can leave your friends behind
Cause your friends dont dance and if they dont dance
Well theyre are no friends of mine
I say we can dance, we can dance everything out control
We can dance, we can dance were doing it wall to wall
We can dance, we can dance everybody look at your hands
We can dance, we can dance everybodys takin the chance
Oh well the safety dance
Ah yes the safety dance
Oh well the safety dance
Oh well the safety dance
Oh yes the safety dance
Oh the safety dance yeah
Oh its the safety dance
Its the safety dance

[...] Read more

song performed by Men Without Hats
Added by Lucian Velea
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Amics Bernart de Ventadorn

Amics Bernartz de Ventadorn,
com vos podetz de chant sofrir,
can aissi auzetz esbaudir
lo rossinholet noih e jorn?
Auyatz lo joi que demena!
Tota noih chanta sotz la flor,
melhs s'enten que vos en amor.

Peire, lo dormir e.l sojorn
am mais que.l rossinhol auvir;
ni ja tan no.m sabriatz dir
que mais en la folia torn.
Deu lau, fors sui de chadena,
e vos e tuih l'autr' amador
etz remazut en la folor.

Bernartz, greu er pros ni cortes
que ab amor no.s sap tener;
ni j tan no.us fara doler
que mai no valha c'autre bes,
car, si fai mal, pois abena.
Greu a om gran be ses dolor;
mas ades vens lo jois lo plor.

Peire, si fos dos ans o tres
lo segles faihz al meu plazer,
de domnas vos dic eu lo ver:
non foran mais preyadas ges,
ans sostengran tan greu pena
qu'elas nos feiran tan d'onor
c'ans nos prejaran que nos lor.

Bernatz, so non es d'avinen
que domnas preyon; ans cove
c'om las prec e lor clam merce;
et es plus fols, mon escien,
que cel qui semn' en l'arena,
qui las blasma ni lor valor;
e mou de mal ensenhador.

Peire, mout ai lo cor dolen,
can d'una faussa me sove,
que m'a mort, e no sai per que,
mas car l'amava finamen.
Faih ai lonja carantena,
e sai, si la fezes lonhorn,
ades la trobara pejor.

Bernartz, foudatz vos amena,
car aissi vos partetz d'amor,

[...] Read more

poem by Bernard de Ventadorn
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Rebirth of a Nation!

Oh Flag of America, I see your colors bleeding like running tears. Why are you so sad?
“My children have lost their Innocence, their Courage has fled, and Justice has died in their bosoms.”
Oh Flag of America, oh Flag of America you are fading away! What can be done
to restore your brilliance?
“Light the torch of Valor once again, and give it to the pure that remain, the few who remember me in all my gaiety. Send them to burn down into ashes the pillars of corruption and as the ashes scatter to the winds the name of Justice shall ring through the
Night.”
Oh Flag of America, I find no one pure, there is no Valor left to spark the flame of Justice. What do we do now?
“Oh sudden fall! All is lost without the pure, only they can wake the slumbering perseverance of old. Oh young one, you cannot remember how we used to stand vigilant with Justice as a fiery guide, Valor our shield, and Purity the rock upon which we stood.
Oh, the foul waters of corruption have shifted the soil 'neath us, now we tilt and sway.
Unless the pure awaken and steady the rock, we shall tip o'er and vanish like snow ‘neat Spring's sunlight.”
Oh Flag of America, I am young, but I know that which you speak of. Let me carry your torch of Valor and set Justice free!
“Hark! I hear the voice of a pure one, I hear the cracks forming in the pillars as they vainly fight against the flames of Justice! Oh children of America! Children of America! You once again stand upon solid rock! Your Valor has turned the skies crimson, your Purity has turned the earth white, and Justice has dyed the waters a deeper blue! America, America, the Lord of Hosts is pleased, for those who were pure have crushed the Serpents head! ”
Oh Flag of America! How brightly you shine now! You have become more brilliant than all the gems of the earth!
“America you have made me so.”

poem by Tolly Rebeka Christian BlackWolf Hawk
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Transocean Ltd Vision Gulf Of Mexico Does Not Count

Transocean Ltd. CEO Steve Newman scores on Gulf oil
the company noted 'the tragic loss of life' when BP PLC
exploded their Transocean's Deepwater Horizon oil rig in
the Gulf of Mexico on April 20 2010 killing 11 workers

causing the largest offshore oil spill in American history
Newman brushed the incident off proclaiming company
'exemplary' safety record which “met or exceeded certain
internal safety targets concerning frequency and severity

of its accidents, according to the filing with the Securities
and Exchange Commission on Friday.” Newman loves
putting out fire with gasoline getting big bonuses shafting
ocean environment with explosion policy profit not safety

is mean and a commission appointed by President Barack
Obama agreed stated explosion was caused by a series of
time money-saving decisions deliberately made by policy
Transocean, BP and oil services company Halliburton Inc.

These companies “created an unacceptable amount of risk.”
Newman environment can burn hang conservation ideology
reflected in blue lighter fluid burning of protective red tape
was polished off in the company regulatory filing bonuses

“appropriate as a way to recognize its executives' efforts in
'significantly improving the company's safety record' and
implementing a new internal planning system” (called burn
baby burn record 200 million gallons spilled oil stupidity)

Transocean Ltd further boasting 'exemplary' safety record
executives efforts 'significantly improving the company's
safety record' proudly continued stated “Those efforts have
'enabled the company to maintain its financial flexibility

during a challenging period, ('the tragic loss of life') while,
at the same time, positioning the company for sustained
growth in the future.' Achieved without handicap safety
first life saving policy limiting losing profit unforgivable

Transocean Ltd. CEO Steve Newman soaks up a calculated
by The Associated Press $5.8 million compensation package
after spilling 200 million gallons of oops accident crime oil
into beautiful Gulf of Mexico because nature does not count

Copyright © Terence George Craddock
Source article ‘Transocean gives safety bonuses despite deaths’ by Jordan Robertson, AP Business Writer.

poem by Terence George Craddock
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The Aeneid of Virgil: Book 2

ALL were attentive to the godlike man,
When from his lofty couch he thus began:
“Great queen, what you command me to relate
Renews the sad remembrance of our fate:
An empire from its old foundations rent, 5
And ev’ry woe the Trojans underwent;
A peopled city made a desart place;
All that I saw, and part of which I was:
Not ev’n the hardest of our foes could hear,
Nor stern Ulysses tell without a tear. 10
And now the latter watch of wasting night,
And setting stars, to kindly rest invite;
But, since you take such int’rest in our woe,
And Troy’s disastrous end desire to know,
I will restrain my tears, and briefly tell 15
What in our last and fatal night befell.
“By destiny compell’d, and in despair,
The Greeks grew weary of the tedious war,
And by Minerva’s aid a fabric rear’d,
Which like a steed of monstrous height appear’d: 20
The sides were plank’d with pine; they feign’d it made
For their return, and this the vow they paid.
Thus they pretend, but in the hollow side
Selected numbers of their soldiers hide:
With inward arms the dire machine they load, 25
And iron bowels stuff the dark abode.
In sight of Troy lies Tenedos, an isle
(While Fortune did on Priam’s empire smile)
Renown’d for wealth; but, since, a faithless bay,
Where ships expos’d to wind and weather lay. 30
There was their fleet conceal’d. We thought, for Greece
Their sails were hoisted, and our fears release.
The Trojans, coop’d within their walls so long,
Unbar their gates, and issue in a throng,
Like swarming bees, and with delight survey 35
The camp deserted, where the Grecians lay:
The quarters of the sev’ral chiefs they show’d;
Here Phœnix, here Achilles, made abode;
Here join’d the battles; there the navy rode.
Part on the pile their wond’ring eyes employ: 40
The pile by Pallas rais’d to ruin Troy.
Thymoetes first (’t is doubtful whether hir’d,
Or so the Trojan destiny requir’d)
Mov’d that the ramparts might be broken down,
To lodge the monster fabric in the town. 45
But Capys, and the rest of sounder mind,
The fatal present to the flames designed,
Or to the wat’ry deep; at least to bore
The hollow sides, and hidden frauds explore.
The giddy vulgar, as their fancies guide, 50

[...] Read more

poem by Publius Vergilius Maro
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Geely Panda King of Safety

rejoice Geely is coming
the Chinese super car
only $6000 dollars
the cheapest model

of course it can’t
pass American
international
tested car vehicle

safety standards
crash fast it crushes
you like a juicy bug
coz safety costs?

a life preserver
is not a Chinese
problem with 1.6
billion people

a Titanic million
not easily spared
sacrificed to get
rolling cars first

extra safety last
not anymore at
Geely new safety
standards soar

C-NCAP test 2008
Geely Group goal
all vehicles marketed
in Geely’s future shall

meet the four-star
or meet the five-star
standard Geely Panda’s
five-star performance

testifies Geely hit
an historical high
in automobile
safety control

Geely Panda
King of Safety
45.3 prominent
in C-NCAP test

[...] Read more

poem by Terence George Craddock
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Transocean Ltd Strategy Time Money-Saving Decisions

Transocean Ltd our world’s largest off-shore oil rig company
continues to astonish continues to share market make a mark
after stain marking Gulf of Mexico inking in over 200 million
gallons of oil by rush exploding their rig Deep Water Horizon

now rubbing salt callously cruelly into pristine polluted raw wounds
vile nature destroying company awarded managers healthy bonuses
bonuses for major component safety to honour their environmental
strategy a series of time money-saving decisions deliberately aimed

at creating what President Barack Obama’s investigation commission
termed “an unacceptable amount of risk.” Secret Transocean policy
is revealed executive compensation bonuses motivating executives
“to keep up the good work” of cutting more dangerous safety corners

to correct what went wrong in management of Deep Water Horizon
rig takes profit profit profit time wasting big money money money
bonuses give all the wrong incentives to do the wrong thing when
principled leadership is lacking and environmental damage fines are

small change ignored. ‘The Wall Street Journal’ reports company’s “management reckons 2010 as its “best year in safety performance”
in spite of the accident” because cutting safety corners made extra
money money money. Transocean identified their magic bean profit

formula with celebratory words “we achieved an exemplary
statistical safety record.' Based on the total rate of incidents
and their severity' we recorded the best year in [our] safety
performance in our company's history.' in dollar profit terms

trashing Gulf of Mexico was a good profit write off investment

Copyright © Terence George Craddock
Source of data ‘The Worden Report’ article ‘Transocean Executive Compensation Bonuses for 'Best Safety Year in 2010' in spite of the Deep Water Horizon Explosion’ posted by Dr. Worden.

poem by Terence George Craddock
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War And Peace—A Poem

THOU, bright Futurity! whose prospect beams,
In dawning radiance on our day-light dreams;
Whose lambent meteors and ethereal forms
Gild the dark clouds, and glitter thro' the storms;
On thy broad canvas fancy loves to trace,
Her brilliant Iris, drest in vivid grace;
Paints fair creations in celestial dyes,
Tints of the morn and blushes of the skies;
And bids her scenes perfection's robe assume,
The mingling flush of light, and life, and bloom.
Thou bright Futurity! whose morning-star
Still beams unveil'd, unclouded, from afar;
Whose lovely vista smiling Hope surveys,
Thro' the dim twilight of the silvery haze;

Oh! let the muse expand her wing on high,
Thy shadowy realms, thy worlds unknown descry;
Let her clear eye-beam, flashing lucid light,
Chase from thy forms th' involving shades of night;
Pierce the dark clouds that veil thy noontide rays,
And soar, exulting, in meridian blaze!
In bliss, in grief, thy radiant scenes bestow,
The zest of rapture, or the balm of woe!
For, as the sun-flower to her idol turns,
Glows in his noon, and kindles as he burns;
Expands her bosom to th' exalting fire,
Lives but to gaze, and gazes to admire;
E'en so to thee, the mind incessant flies,
From thy pure source the fount of joy supplies;
And steals from thee the sunny light that throws
A brighter blush on pleasure's living rose!
To thee pale sorrow turns her eye of tears,
Lifts the dim curtain of unmeasur'd years;
And hails thy promis'd land, th' Elysian shore,
Where weeping virtue shall bewail no more!

Now, while the sounds of martial wrath assail,
While the red banner floats upon the gale;
While dark destruction, with his legion-bands,
Waves the bright sabre o'er devoted lands;
While war's dread comet flashes thro' the air,
And fainting nations tremble at the glare;
To thee, Futurity! from scenes like these,
Pale fancy turns, for heav'n-imparted ease;
Turns to behold, in thy unclouded skies,
The orb of peace in bright perspective rise;
And pour around, with joy-diffusing ray,
Life, light, and glory, in a flood of day!

Thou, whose lov'd presence and benignant smile

[...] Read more

poem by Felicia Dorothea Hemans
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Valor

The dictionary describes 'Valor' as:
Qualities of a hero or heroine;
Exceptional courage when facing danger;
Facing the unknown with boldness and gallentry.
But, gallentry comes in many different forms.
I have seen valor on the battlefront as soldiers
Disembark from boat to beach.
I have read of those who gave their lives
To save their buddies from the wrath of war.
Yet, there is another valor, a silent valor,
Shown on the faces of those who, though not
In physcial combat, soldier against soldier,
Have just as much a life threatining struggle.
There is no noise, clash of weapons,
Shield against shield, or screams of pain,
Just silence, cold, weary silence;
Battle fatigue, as shown by the posture of
Those who return from the front;
Veterans of that silent war of personal combat.
Wave after wave of seasoned combatants pass me by
As I, a new inductee with them, wage our own
Personal battle against our common enemy,
Cancer.

(Free Verse)

poem by Lynn W. Petty
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Don't Leave Home

Like a ghost dont need a key
Your best friend I've come to be
Please don't think of getting up for me
You don't even need to speak
When I've been here for just one day
You'll already miss me if I go away
So close the blinds and shut the door
You won't need other friends anymore
Oh don't leave home, oh don't leave home
If you're cold I'll keep you warm
And If you're lost just hold on
Cause I will be your safety
Oh don't leave home
I arrived when you were weak
I'll make you weaker, like a child
Now all your love you give to me
When your heart is all I need
Oh don't leave home, oh don't leave home
If you're cold I'll keep you warm
And If you're lost just hold on
Cause I will be your safety
Oh don't leave home
Oh how quiet, quiet the world can be
When it's just you and little me
Everything is clear and everything is new
So you won't be leaving will you
If you're cold I'll keep you warm
And If you're lost just hold on
Cause I will be your safety
Oh don't leave home
Cause I will be your safety
I will be your safety
I will be your safety
Oh don't leave home

song performed by Dido
Added by Lucian Velea
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A prayer for a Lost Loved One

Silence is no silence,
fear engulfs loved ones,
voices in heads pray,
for safety of a lost one.

No news is no sign of good news;
tears roll down; down to the ground,
shakes and anger circling ascends
in and out like breathing.

Silence is no silence,
fear engulfs loved ones,
voices in heads pray,
for safety of a lost one.

Fury rises with the sun,
and stays behind with the moon.
Silent stares, lone figures
Walk up down, awaiting news. And…

No news is no sign of good news;
tears roll down; down to the ground,
shakes and anger circling ascends
in and out like breathing.

Simper a cuddle no longer possible-
weight lose, gray hallow face
sleepless, reckless nights of
curving streaking worry.

Silence is no silence,
fear engulfs loved ones,
voices in heads pray,
for safety of a lost one.

No sign, sun shines; wondering thoughts,
to the safety of a child
tears of fear, sadness, rain falls
on ovals – fear rises and…

No news is no sign of good news;
tears roll down; down to the ground,
shakes and anger circling ascends
in and out like breathing.

Communities worry, grief, feel
And hold lost ones together-
Give and build strength,
Prayers whisper from door to door.

[...] Read more

poem by Celine Berghmans
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Beowulf

LO, praise of the prowess of people-kings
of spear-armed Danes, in days long sped,
we have heard, and what honor the athelings won!
Oft Scyld the Scefing from squadroned foes,
from many a tribe, the mead-bench tore,
awing the earls. Since erst he lay
friendless, a foundling, fate repaid him:
for he waxed under welkin, in wealth he throve,
till before him the folk, both far and near,
who house by the whale-path, heard his mandate,
gave him gifts: a good king he!
To him an heir was afterward born,
a son in his halls, whom heaven sent
to favor the folk, feeling their woe
that erst they had lacked an earl for leader
so long a while; the Lord endowed him,
the Wielder of Wonder, with world's renown.
Famed was this Beowulf: far flew the boast of him,
son of Scyld, in the Scandian lands.
So becomes it a youth to quit him well
with his father's friends, by fee and gift,
that to aid him, aged, in after days,
come warriors willing, should war draw nigh,
liegemen loyal: by lauded deeds
shall an earl have honor in every clan.
Forth he fared at the fated moment,
sturdy Scyld to the shelter of God.
Then they bore him over to ocean's billow,
loving clansmen, as late he charged them,
while wielded words the winsome Scyld,
the leader beloved who long had ruled….
In the roadstead rocked a ring-dight vessel,
ice-flecked, outbound, atheling's barge:
there laid they down their darling lord
on the breast of the boat, the breaker-of-rings,
by the mast the mighty one. Many a treasure
fetched from far was freighted with him.
No ship have I known so nobly dight
with weapons of war and weeds of battle,
with breastplate and blade: on his bosom lay
a heaped hoard that hence should go
far o'er the flood with him floating away.
No less these loaded the lordly gifts,
thanes' huge treasure, than those had done
who in former time forth had sent him
sole on the seas, a suckling child.
High o'er his head they hoist the standard,
a gold-wove banner; let billows take him,
gave him to ocean. Grave were their spirits,
mournful their mood. No man is able

[...] Read more

poem by Charles Baudelaire
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VIII. Dominus Hyacinthus de Archangelis, Pauperum Procurator

Ah, my Giacinto, he's no ruddy rogue,
Is not Cinone? What, to-day we're eight?
Seven and one's eight, I hope, old curly-pate!
—Branches me out his verb-tree on the slate,
Amo-as-avi-atum-are-ans,
Up to -aturus, person, tense, and mood,
Quies me cum subjunctivo (I could cry)
And chews Corderius with his morning crust!
Look eight years onward, and he's perched, he's perched
Dapper and deft on stool beside this chair,
Cinozzo, Cinoncello, who but he?
—Trying his milk-teeth on some crusty case
Like this, papa shall triturate full soon
To smooth Papinianian pulp!

It trots
Already through my head, though noon be now,
Does supper-time and what belongs to eve.
Dispose, O Don, o' the day, first work then play!
—The proverb bids. And "then" means, won't we hold
Our little yearly lovesome frolic feast,
Cinuolo's birth-night, Cinicello's own,
That makes gruff January grin perforce!
For too contagious grows the mirth, the warmth
Escaping from so many hearts at once—
When the good wife, buxom and bonny yet,
Jokes the hale grandsire,—such are just the sort
To go off suddenly,—he who hides the key
O' the box beneath his pillow every night,—
Which box may hold a parchment (someone thinks)
Will show a scribbled something like a name
"Cinino, Ciniccino," near the end,
"To whom I give and I bequeath my lands,
"Estates, tenements, hereditaments,
"When I decease as honest grandsire ought."
Wherefore—yet this one time again perhaps—
Shan't my Orvieto fuddle his old nose!
Then, uncles, one or the other, well i' the world,
May—drop in, merely?—trudge through rain and wind,
Rather! The smell-feasts rouse them at the hint
There's cookery in a certain dwelling-place!
Gossips, too, each with keepsake in his poke,
Will pick the way, thrid lane by lantern-light,
And so find door, put galligaskin off
At entry of a decent domicile
Cornered in snug Condotti,—all for love,
All to crush cup with Cinucciatolo!

Well,
Let others climb the heights o' the court, the camp!

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Trash Bag

1 bag cement mold
10 inch leather titleist golf bag
2006 kia rio side air bags
1900 s tapestry bag
1,000 face value silver bag buyers
100ft x 200ft plastic bag
16 flow-through infuser bags order e-mail
2001 accura air bags
1966 chevy pickup air bags
1st responder bag subdued
40 catchers equipment bag
10 dolars chanell bags for sale
$20,000 beanie bag
2 004 ben hogan golf bag
100 cotton childrens sleeping bags
2 mil designer bags
12 ounce bean bag
20 pound bag rabbit food
35 bag dirt james teen wendy
10 inch screen laptop bags
20 gallon garbage bags
30 gallon trash bags odor
17 leather laptop bag clearance
42 rolling duffle bag
2 section 17 roller cooler bag
40 long sportsequipment bag
2005 ford taurus air bag
06 toyota corolla air bag
3 x 8 cello bags
1 ball roller bowling bags
10020 garbage bags
250 liter bag
21 sensational patchwork bags
4 wheeler cargo bags
3 shelf laundry bag cart
2002 altima air bags
2003 crown victoria air bag recall
2 pc motorcycle tour bag
2 x3 zip lock bags
360121 bat bag
$1 tea bag holder
400 gauge thick poly bags
2005 jackie o gucci hand bag
1 bag cement mixers
1920s clutch bag
1.5 oz bag reg chips
1 bag popcorn serving size
2000 saturn sl air bag light
11 gallon garbage bags
306 leather tour sissy bag

[...] Read more

poem by Rwetewrt Erwtwer
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El Dia Del Amor

Dia gris
Sin ilusin.
Dnde va
Mi corazn.
Necesito descansar.
Este no es
Un dia mas.
Sola, desolada,
Esperando al sol.
Animate
Qua lo malo pasa.
As es la ley,
Esa es la verdad.
Porque no hay mal
Que cien anos dure.
Espera con valor
El dia del amor.
Qu m s da
Cmo te va.
A veces bien,
A veces mal.
Nada que hacer,
Solo esperar
Y sabe dios
Lo qua vendr .
Sola, desolada,
Esperando al sol.
Animate
Qua lo malo pasa.
As es la ley,
Esa es la verdad.
Porque no hay mal
Qua cien anos dure.
Espera con valor
Al dia del amor.
Oh, oh ... oh, oh...
Sola, desolada,
Esperando al sol.
Animate
Qua lo malo pesa.
As es la ley,
Esa es la verdad.
Porque no hay mal
Que cien anos dure.
Espera con valor
El dia del amor...
El dia del amor.

song performed by Roxette
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Pleasures of Hope

Part I.

At summer eve, when Heaven's ethereal bow
Spans with bright arch the glittering bills below,
Why to yon mountain turns the musing eye,
Whose sunbright summit mingles with the sky ?
Why do those clifts of shadowy tint appear
More sweet than all the landscape smiling near ?—
'T is distance lends enchantment to the view,
And robes the mountain in its azure hue.
Thus, with delight, we linger to survey
The promised joys of life's unmeasured way;
Thus, from afar, each dim-discovered scene
More pleasing seems than all the past hath been,
And every form, that Fancy can repair
From dark oblivion, glows divinely there.
What potent spirit guides the raptured eye
To pierce the shades of dim futurity ?
Can Wisdom lend, with all her heavenly power,
The pledge of Joy's anticipated hour ?
Ah, no! she darkly sees the fate of man—
Her dim horizon bounded to a span;
Or, if she hold an image to the view,
'T is Nature pictured too severely true.
With thee, sweet Hope! resides the heavenly light,
That pours remotest rapture on the sight:
Thine is the charm of life's bewildered way,
That calls each slumbering passion into play.
Waked by thy touch, I see the sister band,
On tiptoe watching, staft at thy command
And fly where'er thy mandate bids them steer,
To Pleasure's path or Glory's bright career.
Primeval Hope, the Aonian Muses say,
When Man and Nature mourned their first decay;
When every form of death, and every woe,
Shot from malignant stars to earth below ;
When Murder bared her arm, and rampant War
Yoked the red dragons of her iron car ;
When Peace and Mercy, banished from the plain,
Sprung on the viewless winds to Heaven again ;
All, all forsook the friendless, guilty mind,
But Hope, the charmer, lingered still behind.
Thus, while Elijah's burning wheels prepare
From Carmel's heights to sweep the fields of air,
The prophet's mantle, ere his fight began,
Dropt on the world—a sacred gift to man.
Auspicious Hope ! in thy sweet garden grow
Wreaths for each toil, a charm for every woe ;
Won by their sweets, in Nature's languid hour,
The way-worn pilgrim seeks thy summer bower ;

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poem by Thomas Campbell
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Wrath Of Loyalty

OCTOBER! tho' thy rugged brow,
No vivid wreaths entwine;
Tho' not for thee the zephyr blow,
Tho' not for thee the blossom glow,
Or skies unclouded shine:

Tho' o'er thy dark and russet vest
No rainbow-colors play;
Tho' dim thine eye, tho' cold thy breast,
Yet be thou honor'd, be thou blest,
E'en more than youthful May!

No vernal suns illume thy day,
Fair star of joy! then brighter beam!
No forest-notes attend thy way,
Then strike the lyre, then make the lay,
To one inspiring theme!

Thy steps may blight the roseate plain,
Thy winds may chill the vale;
Yet, blooming 'midst thy shadowy train,
One radiant morn adorns thy reign;
Hail! dark October! hail!

Thine is the day, to Britons dear,
That bids fair Albion dry the tear;
With myrtles wreath her victor-spear,
And ev'ry grief disown.
Oh! let a people's voice prolong,
Proud Loyalty's triumphal song;
And faith, and truth, and valor, throng
Around Britannia's throne!

That still their monarch's heart may feel
How sweet affections grateful zeal
Still kindle with the patriot flame,
And 'glory in a Briton's name!'
O name! by deeds emblazon'd high,
O name! exalted to the sky,
O name! ennobled by the free!
Thou sacred sovereign! worthy thee!

Then wake, fairest Albion! awake to rejoice,
To the Pæan of rapture attuning thy voice,
And suspending thy war-song awhile!
Thou hast mourn'd for the great, thou hast wept o'er the brave,
Thou hast bent in despair o'er the Patriot's grave;
But now from thy bosom repressing the sigh,
Dispelling the tear from thy sun-darting eye,
Let ecstacy dawn in thy smile!

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poem by Felicia Dorothea Hemans
Added by Poetry Lover
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Lathmon

ARGUMENT.

Lathmon, a British prince, taking advantage of Fingal's absence on an expedition to Ireland, made a descent on Morven, and advanced within sight of Selma, the royal residence. Fingal arrived in the mean time, and Lathmon retreated to a hill, where his army was surprised by night, and himself taken prisoner by Ossian and Gaul the son of Morni. The poem opens with the first appearance of Fingal on the coast of Morven, and ends, it may be supposed, about noon the next day.

SELMA, thy halls are silent. There is no sound in the woods of Morven. The wave tumbles along on the coast. The silent beam of the sun is on the field. The daughters of Morven come forth, like the bow of the shower; they look towards green Erin for the white sails of the king. He had promised to return, but the winds of the north arose!

Who pours from the eastern hill, like a stream of darkness? It is the host of Lathmon. He has heard of the absence of Fingal. He trusts in the winds of the north. His soul brightens with joy. Why dost thou come, O Lathmon? The mighty are not in Selma. Why comest thou with thy forward spear? Will the daughters of Morven fight? But stop, O mighty stream, in thy course! Does not Lathmon behold these sails? Why dost thou vanish, Lathmon, like the mist of the lake? But the squally storm is behind thee; Fingal pursues thy steps!

The king of Morven had started from sleep, as we rolled on the dark-blue wave. He stretched his hand to his spear, his heroes rose around. We knew that he had seen his fathers, for they often descended to his dreams, when the sword of the foe rose over the land and the battle darkened before us. "Whither hast thou fled, O wind?" said the king of Morven. "Dost thou rustle in the chambers of the south? pursuest thou the shower in other lands? Why dost thou not come to my sails? to the blue face of my seas? The foe is in the land of Morven, and the king is absent far. But let each bind on his mail, and each assume his shield. Stretch every spear over the wave; let every sword be unsheathed. Lathmon is before us with his host; he that fled from Fingal on the plains of Lona. But he returns like a collected stream, and his roar is between our hills."

Such were the words of Fingal. We rushed into Carmon's bay. Ossian ascended the hill! he thrice struck his bossy shield. The rock of Morven replied: the bounding roes came forth. The foe was troubled in my presence: he collected his darkened host. I stood like a cloud on the hill, rejoicing in the arms of my youth.

Morni sat beneath a tree on the roaring waters of Strumon: his locks of age are gray: he leans forward on his staff; young Gaul is near the hero, hearing the battles of his father. Often did he rise in the fire of his soul, at the mighty deeds of Morni. The aged heard the sound of Ossian's shield; he knew the sign of war. He started at once from his place. His gray hair parted on his back. lie remembered the deeds of other years.

"My son," he said, to fair-haired Gaul, "I hear the sound of war. The king of Morven is returned; his signals are spread on the wind. Go to the halls of Strumon; bring his arms to Morni. Bring the shield of my father's latter years, for my arm begins to fail. Take thou thy armor, O Gaul! and rush to the first of thy battles. Let thine arm reach to the renown of thy fathers. Be thy course in the field like the eagle's wing. Why shouldst thou fear death, my son? the valiant fall with fame; their shields turn the dark stream of danger away; renown dwells on their aged hairs. Dost thou not see, O Gaul! low the steps of my age are honored? Morni moves forth. and the young men meet him, with silent joy, on his course. But I never fled from danger, my son! my sword lightened through the darkness of war. The stranger melted before me; the mighty were blasted in my presence."

Gaul brought the arms to Morni: the aged warrior is covered with steel. He took the spear in his hand, which was stained with the blood of the valiant. He came towards Fingal; his son attended his steps. The son of Comhal arose before him with joy, when he came in his locks of age.

"Chief of the roaring Strumon!" said the rising soul of Fingal; "do I behold thee in arms, after thy strength has failed? Often has Morni shone in fight, like the beam of the ascending sun; when he disperses the storms of the hill, and brings peace to the glittering fields. But why didst thou not rest in thine age? Thy renown is in the song. The people behold thee, and bless the departure of mighty Morni. Why didst thou not rest in thine age? The foe will vanish before Fingal!"

"Son of Comhal," replied the chief, "the strength of Morni's arm has failed. I attempt to draw the sword of my youth, but it remains in its place. I throw the spear, but it falls short of the mark. I feel the weight of my shield. We decay like the grass of the hill; our strength returns no more. I have a son, O Fingal! his soul has delighted in Morni's deeds; but his sword has not been lifted against a foe, neither has his fame begun. I come with him to the war; to direct his arm in fight. His renown will be a light to my soul in the dark hour of my departure. O that the name of Morni were forgot among the people! that the heroes would only say, 'Behold the father of Gaul!'"

"King of Strumon," Fingal replied, "Gaul shall lift the sword in fight. But he shall lift it before Fingal; my arm shall defend his youth. But rest thou in the halls of Selma, and hear of our renown. Bid the harp to be strung, and the voice of the bard to arise, that those who fall may rejoice in their fame, and the soul of Morni brighten with joy. Ossian, thou hast fought in battles: the blood of strangers is on thy spear: thy course be with Gaul in the strife; but depart not from the side of Fingal, lest the foe should find you alone, and your fame fail in my presence."

[Ossian speaks ] "I saw Gaul in his arms; my soul was mixed with his. The fire of the battle was in his eyes! he looked to the foe with joy. We spoke the words of friendship in secret; the lightning of our swords poured together; for we drew them behind the wood, and tried the strength of our arms on the empty air!"

Night came down on Morven. Fingal sat at the beam of the oak. Morni sat by his side with all his gray-waving locks. Their words were of other times, of the mighty deeds of their fathers. Three bards, at times, touched the harp: Ullin was near with his song. He sung of the mighty Comhal; but darkness gathered on Morni's brow. He rolled his red eye on Ullin: at once ceased the song of the bard. Fingal observed the aged hero, and he mildly spoke: "Chief of Strumon, why that darkness? Let the days of other years be forgot. Our fathers contended in war; but we meet together at the feast. Our swords are turned on the foe of our land: he melts before us on the field. Let the days of our fathers be forgot, hero of mossy Strumon!"

King of Morven," replied the chief, "I remember thy father with joy. He was terrible in battle, the rage of the chief was deadly. My eyes were full of tears when the king of heroes fell. The valiant fall, O Fingal! the feeble remain on the hills! How many heroes have passed away in the days of Morni! Yet I did not shun the battle; neither did I fly from the strife of the valiant. Now let the friends of Fingal rest, for the night is around, that they may rise with strength to battle against car-borne Lathmon. I hear the sound of his host, like thunder moving on the hills. Ossian! and fair-haired Gaul! ye are young and swift in the race. Observe the foes of Fingal from that woody hill. But approach them not: your fathers are near to shield you. Let not your fame fall at once. The valor of youth may fail!"

We heard the words of the chief with joy. We moved in the clang of our arms. Our steps are on the woody hill. Heaven burns with all its stars. The meteors of death fly over the field. The distant noise of the foe reached our ears. It was than Gaul spoke, in his valor: his hand half unsheathed his sword.

"Son of Fingal!" he said, "why burns the soul of Gaul? my heart beats high. My steps are disordered; my hand trembles on my sword. When I look towards the foe, my soul lightens before me. I see their sleeping host. Tremble thus the souls of the valiant in battles of the spear? How would the soul of Morni rise if we should rush on the foe? Our renown should grow in song: our steps would be stately in the eyes of the brave."

"Son of Morni," I replied, "my soul delights in war. I delight to shine in battle alone, to give my name to the bards. But what if the foe should prevail? can I behold the eyes of the king? They are terrible in his displeasure, and like the flames of death. But I will not behold them in his wrath! Ossian shall prevail or fall. But shall the fame of the vanquished rise? They pass like a shade away. But the fame of Ossian shall rise! His deeds shall be like his father's. Let us rush in our arms; son of Morni, let us rush to fight. Gaul, if thou shouldst return, go to Selma's lofty hall. Tell to Everallin that I fell with fame; carry this sword to Branno's daughter. Let her give it to Oscar, when the years of his youth shall arise."

"Son of Fingal," Gaul replied with a sigh, "shall I return after Ossian is low? What would my father say? what Fingal, the king of men? The feeble would turn their eyes and say, 'Behold Gaul, who left his friend in his blood!' Ye shall not behold me, ye feeble, but in the midst of my renown! Ossian, I have heard from my father the mighty deeds of heroes; their mighty deeds when alone! for the soul increases in danger!"

"Son of Morni," I replied, and strode before him on the heath, "our fathers shall praise our valor when they mourn our fall. A beam of gladness shall rise on their souls, when their eyes are full of tears. They will, say, 'Our sons have not fallen unknown: they spread death around them.' But why should we think of the narrow house? The sword defends the brave. But death pursues the flight of the feeble; their renown is never heard."

We rushed forward through night; we came to the roar of a stream, which bent its blue course round the foe, through trees that echoed to its sound. We came to the bank of the stream, and saw the sleeping host. Their fires were decayed on the plain: the lonely steps of their scouts were distant far. I stretched my spear before me, to support my steps over the stream. But Gaul took my hand, and spoke the words of the brave. "Shall the son of Fingal rush on the sleeping foe? Shall he come like a blast by night, when it overturns the young trees in secret? Fingal did no receive his fame, nor dwells renown on the gray hairs of Morni, for actions like these. Strike, Ossian, strike the shield, and let their thousands rise! Let them meet Gaul in his first battle, that he may try the strength of his arm."

My soul rejoiced over the warrior; my bursting tears came down. "And the foe shall meet thee, Gaul," I said: "the fame of Morni's son shall arise. But rush not too far, my hero: let the gleam of thy steel be near to Ossian. Let our hands join in slaughter. Gaul! dost thou not behold that rock? Its gray side dimly gleams to the stars. Should the foe prevail, let our back be towards the rock. Then shall they fear to approach our spears; for death is in our hands!"

I struck thrice my echoing shield. The startling foe arose. We rushed on in the sound of our arms. Their crowded steps fly over the heath. They thought that the mighty Fingal was come. The strength of their arms withered away. The sound of their flight was like that of flame, when it rushes through the blasted groves. It was then the spear of Gaul flew in its strength; it was then his sword arose. Cramo fell; and mighty Leth! Dunthormo struggled in his blood. The steel rushed through Crotho's side, as bent he rose on his spear; the black stream poured from the wound, and hissed on the half-extinguished oak. Cathmin saw the steps of the hero behind him: he ascended a blasted tree; but the spear pierced him from behind. Shrieking, panting, he fell. Moss and withered branches pursue his fall, and strew the blue arms of Gaul.

Such were thy deeds, son of Morni, in the first of thy battles. Nor slept the sword by thy side, thou last of Fingal's race! Ossian rushed forward in his strength; the people fell before him; as the grass by the stall of the boy, when he whistles along the field, and the gray beard of the thistle falls. But careless the youth moves on; his steps are towards the desert. Gray morning rose around us; the winding streams are bright along the heath. The foe gathered on a bill; and the rage of Lathmon rose. He bent the red eye of his wrath: he is silent in his rising grief. He often struck his bossy shield: and his steps are unequal on the heath. I saw the distant darkness of the hero, and I spoke to Morni's son.

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poem by James Macpherson
Added by Poetry Lover
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Loyalty to the Flag

In the love of home and country and the flag of Uncle Sam,
Can the loyalty be doubted of a dusky son of Ham?
Wheresoever duty calls him, as a freedman or a slave,
The response is ever hearty when 'Old Glory' he would save.

'Twas the war of Revolution, when a Negro's blood was first,
To be shed for independence, when a yoke the land had cursed;
Crispus Attucks died in Boston, on State street he paid the debt,
Liberty his blood has planted and the tree is growing yet.

Ask the spirit of Pitcairn how he came to meet his death?
Where and who it was that brought him down to breathe the dying breath?
'Twas the Negro Salem's bullet at the charge of Bunker's Hill,
Bringing to the whites their freedom but to Negroes naught but ill.

In the battle of New Orleans, eighteen fourteen was the year,
When the Negro fought with valor till the victory was clear;
Jackson paid this glowing tribute—may the spirit never lag—
'None more strong and none more useful, none more loyal to the flag.'

O, how brave the Negro soldiers when the Civil war was fought!
Shall they fight such noble battles in the nation's cause for naught?
Hark! the battle cry of Charleston! at Fort Wagner is the place!
At Port Hudson and Fort Pillow how the rebel guns they face!

Fifty-fourth of Massachusetts—may such regiments be praised—
By its valor at Fort Wagner, North and South became amazed!
Hall began as color-bearer but was killed on duty grand,
To the spot went William Carney and the colors took in hand.

Wounded many times was Carney, shot in head, in arm and thigh,
On one knee he fell and crawling kept the colors flying high,
Blood upon the banner streaming while his words the action crowned;
'Boys I've kept aloft 'Old Glory' and it never touched the ground!'

Colonel Stafford was disabled, Dwight his men to battle led,
With great feeling at New Orleans, Stafford to the sergeant said,
'Guard, protect defend these colors,' 'Yes,' he answered, 'though I die
I will bring them back in honor or to God report the why.'

All the world has heard the story of the Cuban war with Spain,
Ah! the sound of Negro valor falls upon the ear again,
At Elkaney and San Juan how they helped to win the day,
Near the town of Santiago, held the enemy at bay!

Side by side with other soldiers being in complexion white,
Negroes died to take San Juan in the thickest of the fight,
Thus they gained the worthy plaudit from the loyal, brave and true;
'Negroes on the field of battle, dignify the nation's blue.'

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poem by Lizelia Augusta Jenkins Moorer
Added by Poetry Lover
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