Quotes about fort, page 2
Gertrude of Wyoming
PART I
On Susquehanna's side, fair Wyoming!
Although the wild-flower on thy ruin'd wall,
And roofless homes, a sad remembrance bring,
Of what thy gentle people did befall;
Yet thou wert once the loveliest land of all
That see the Atlantic wave their morn restore.
Sweet land! may I thy lost delights recall,
And paint thy Gertrude in her bowers of yore,
Whose beauty was the love of Pennsylvania's shore!
Delightful Wyoming! beneath thy skies,
The happy shepherd swains had nought to do
But feed their flocks on green declivities,
Or skim perchance thy lake with light canoe,
From morn till evening's sweeter pastimes grew,
With timbrel, when beneath the forests brown,
Thy lovely maidens would the dance renew;
And aye those sunny mountains half-way down
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poem by Thomas Campbell
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J'aime un gars
Mon amour est fort,
Mon cœur est grand,
Qu'est-ce que je donnerais,
Pour vous tenir,
Est inimaginable.
J'aime un gars,
Qui est fort et courageux.
J'aime un gars,
Qui est gentil et intelligent.
J'aime un gars,
Qui est aimable et doux.
J'aime un gars,
Qui peut parler français et à chanter.
Mon amour est fort,
Mon cœur est grand,
Qu'est-ce que je donnerais,
Pour vous tenir,
Est inimaginable.
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poem by Dragon Crenshaw
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Wounded Knee Creek
Crazy Horse, War Chief of the Sioux Indians of the North American plains, was murdered by white soldiers on September 5th,1877. He was 35.
Soldiers from Fort Robinson came smiling
Pretending friendship to Crazy Horse
Offering the Sioux a lasting peace treaty
But only if the War Chief returned with them.
Trusting lies of those who never honoured any treaty
Crazy Horse rode unarmed into the fort
They barred the gates and held him by the arms
While private William Gentles bayoneted him twice.
Parents of Crazy Horse came to the fort
Took away the body of their warrior son
Secretly buried his majestic heart
At a place called Wounded Knee Creek.
American history records the Indian nations were finally defeated by white soldiers at a place called Wounded Knee Creek on December 29,1890. But it was a massacre. The Indians had surrendered. They were unarmed prisoners when the soldiers opened fire.300 men, women and children were killed.4 men, and 47 women and children survived.
poem by Colin Ian Jeffery
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Westöliche Rosen
1
die rosen werden an die hüte gekreuzigt, die lippen
der rosen fliegen fort.
die blutigen organe tropfen auf den sichtbaren
thron des halbwüchsigen westöstlichen steines und
auf die weißen totenköpfe.
die drei rasierten sommer und die drei rasierten
kreuze wackeln wie der mai auf krücken fort.
der leierleib erzählt von blutigen schlachten gegen
behaarte steine. der leierleib schießt giftigen schaum
steinerne krücken blutige nasen behaarte steine gegen
die rasierten totenköpfe.
2
der leierleib tropft blut auf die weißen vorhemden
wie in einer unverpackten schlacht und wirft seine
drei schneeballen hinter seine drei sommer.
aus den retorten rollen die totenköpfe der Itosen.
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poem by Jean Arp
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Fire Feared not the Queen!
The Rajput Ratan singh came to the throne
of Chittorgarh, the chivalrous land,
when Khilji, having all the Northern kings won,
turned to West, to put his foes to the brand.
The Turks made a blockade of the fort
to catch Padmini, the marvelous Mewar’s queen,
and take to Khilji’s harem, and to distort
the pride of Rajputs who in war weren’t mean.
By war, the besieging Sultan found no end;
“A glance will turn me to Delhi”, he cried.
To cease the fight, the wise chose to lend
her image, arranging her mien to hide.
On a scaffold amidst a lake
the queen of the martial race was to stand
and the mad Turk from a mirror had to take
the flashed figure of the nymph made by God’s wand.
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poem by Rajendran Muthiah
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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.'
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poem by Lizelia Augusta Jenkins Moorer
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The Capture of Havana
'Twas in the year 1762 that France and Spain
Resolved, allied together, to crush Britain;
But the British Army sailed from England in May,
And arrived off Havana without any delay.
And the British Army resolved to operate on land,
And the appearance of the British troops were really grand;
And by the Earl of Albemarle the British troops were commanded,
All eager for to fight as soon as they were landed.
Arduous and trying was the work the British had to do,
Yet with a hearty goodwill they to it flew;
While the tropical sun on them blazed down,
But the poor soldiers wrought hard and didn't frown.
The bombardment was opened on the 30th of June,
And from the British battleships a fierce cannonade did boom;
And continued from six in the morning till two o'clock in the afternoon,
And with grief the French and Spaniards sullenly did gloom.
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poem by William Topaz McGonagall
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Conflicts Of Mind.
Carnage of war,
Wounded, What's it all for.?
Question the insanity,
got to break free.
Maybe foolhardy,
or sheer bravery.?
Either way he was decorated,
choice of post stated.
Chose the frontier,
before it disappeared.
Out into the plains they ride,
ever rolling and wide.
Come across signs of dead,
death by arrowhead.
Reach post, deserted all gone,
decision made, stay on.
Wait for their return,
they wouldn't he'd learn.
No sign of command,
in his journal he penned.
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poem by Guy Lipmore
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Rien De Ce Que J'ai Vcu
Com' une feuille morte - que le vent d'hiver emporte
Je vole la drive - je vogue vers d'autres rives
Jamais je n'aurais pu croire - que j'en arriv'rais l
Je tourne en rond dans le noir - oui - et je ne pens' plus qu' toi
Comment pourrais-je te l'expliquer? Et par o commencer?
Dis-moi ou aller - tout a chang
Rien de ce que j'ai vcu - ne m'invite aimer
Rien de tout ce que i'ai vu - ne m'incite rester
Mais je suis l - j' n attends que toi
Et je perds - mes repres - dis-moi o est ma terre
Eh - c'est si fort et a ne ressemble - oh non
A rien de ce que j'ai vcu
Tu es celle que j'attendais
Celle qu'il me tallait
Tu es celle qui me donne - une raison d'esprer
J'ai suivi une toile - qui m'a conduit vers toi
Je me sens si fort - pourquoi aurais-je tort?
Rien de ce que j'ai vcu - ne m'invite aimer
Rien de tout ce que j'ai vu - ne m'incite rester
Mais je suis l - j' n attends que toi
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song performed by Bryan Adams
Added by Lucian Velea
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Sobre Horizontes
soccer az youth
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poem by Rwetewrt Erwtwer
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