Strength poems/ page 4 of 186 /
I was spawned from the glacier,A thousand miles due northBeyond Cape Chidley;And the spawning,When my vast, wallowing bulk went under,Emerged and heaved aloft,Shaking down cataracts from its rocking sides,With mountainous surge and thunderOutraged the silence of the Arctic sea
Your dog is not a dog of grace;He does not wag the tail or beg;He bit Miss Dickson in the face;He bit a Bailie in the leg.
From low and abject themes the grov'ling museNow mounts aërial, to sing of armsTriumphant, and emblaze the martial actsOf Britain's hero; may the verse not sinkBeneath his merits, but detain a whileThy ear, O Harley, (though thy country's wealDepends on thee, though mighty Anne requiresThy hourly counsels) since with ev'ry artThy self adorn'd, the mean essays of youthThou wilt not damp, but guide, wherever found,The willing genius to the muses' seat:Therefore thee first, and last, the muse shall sing
Have done with care, my hearts, abord amain,With stretching sail to plow the swelling waves
Standing againwithin and among all things,Standing with each otheras sisters and brothers, mothers and fathers,daughters and sons, grandmothers and grandfathers --the past and present generations of our people,Standing againwith and among all items of life,the land, rivers, the mountains, plants, animals,all life that is around usthat we are included with,Standing within the circle of the horizon,the day sky and the night sky,the sun, moon, the cycle of seasonsand the earth mother which sustains us,Standing againwith all thingsthat have been in the past,that are in the present,and that will be in the futurewe acknowledge ourselvesto be in a relationship that is responsibleand proper, that is loving and compassionate,for the sake of the land and all people;we ask humbly of the creative forces of lifethat we be given a portionwith which to help ourselves so that our struggleand work will also be creativefor the continuance of life,Standing again, within, among all thingswe ask in all sincerity, for hope, courage, peace,strength, vision, unity and continuance
Though much concern'd to leave my dear old friend,I must however his design commendOf fixing in the country: for were IAs free to choose my residence, as he;The Peak, the Fens, the Hundreds, or Land's End,I would prefer to Fleet Street, or the Strand
PErplex'd and troubl'd at his bad successThe Tempter stood, nor had what to reply,Discover'd in his fraud, thrown from his hope,So oft, and the perswasive RhetoricThat sleek't his tongue, and won so much on Eve,So little here, nay lost; but Eve was Eve,This far his over-match, who self deceiv'dAnd rash, before-hand had no better weigh'dThe strength he was to cope with, or his own:But as a man who had been matchless heldIn cunning, over-reach't where least he thought,To salve his credit, and for very spightStill will be tempting him who foyls him still,And never cease, though to his shame the more;Or as a swarm of flies in vintage time,About the wine-press where sweet moust is powr'd,Beat off, returns as oft with humming sound;Or surging waves against a solid rock,Though all to shivers dash't, the assault renew,Vain battry, and in froth or bubbles end;So Satan, whom repulse upon repulseMet ever; and to shameful silence brought,Yet gives not o're though desperate of success,And his vain importunity pursues