Thoreau: Epitaph On the World

[Kathianne]

Well I'm not one for seeing my own poetry up, but since no one is posting here as of late, thought I'd put up some that I've enjoyed over my many years:

https://www.thoreau-online.org/epitaph-on-the-world.html


Epitaph On The Worldby Henry D. Thoreau

Here lies the body of this world,
Whose soul alas to hell is hurled.
This golden youth long since was past,
Its silver manhood went as fast,
An iron age drew on at last;
'Tis vain its character to tell,
The several fates which it befell,
What year it died, when 'twill arise, We only know that here it lies.

[Tyr-Ziu Saxnot]

The Summer Rain - Poem by Henry David Thoreau

My books I'd fain cast off, I cannot read,
'Twixt every page my thoughts go stray at large
Down in the meadow, where is richer feed,
And will not mind to hit their proper targe.

Plutarch was good, and so was Homer too,
Our Shakespeare's life were rich to live again,
What Plutarch read, that was not good nor true,
Nor Shakespeare's books, unless his books were men.

Here while I lie beneath this walnut bough,
What care I for the Greeks or for Troy town,
If juster battles are enacted now
Between the ants upon this hummock's crown?

Bid Homer wait till I the issue learn,
If red or black the gods will favor most,
Or yonder Ajax will the phalanx turn,
Struggling to heave some rock against the host.

Tell Shakespeare to attend some leisure hour,
For now I've business with this drop of dew,
And see you not, the clouds prepare a shower--
I'll meet him shortly when the sky is blue.

This bed of herd's grass and wild oats was spread
Last year with nicer skill than monarchs use.
A clover tuft is pillow for my head,
And violets quite overtop my shoes.

And now the cordial clouds have shut all in,
And gently swells the wind to say all's well;
The scattered drops are falling fast and thin,
Some in the pool, some in the flower-bell.

I am well drenched upon my bed of oats;
But see that globe come rolling down its stem,
Now like a lonely planet there it floats,
And now it sinks into my garment's hem.

Drip drip the trees for all the country round,
And richness rare distills from every bough;
The wind alone it is makes every sound,
Shaking down crystals on the leaves below.

For shame the sun will never show himself,
Who could not with his beams e'er melt me so;
My dripping locks--they would become an elf,
Who in a beaded coat does gayly go.
Henry David Thoreau
************************************************** *******************************


" Bid Homer wait till I the issue learn,
If red or black the gods will favor most,
Or yonder Ajax will the phalanx turn,
Struggling to heave some rock against the host."


Upon Battlefields Fallen True, Their Bloody Dead

For Greek pride the courageous Greeks warriors bled
Upon battlefields fallen true, their bloody dead
Thus many, from Greek mothers loving hearts were torn
Raised to be Greek heroes from day they were born.

Those giants brave and true as Homer did so write
Marching, fighting both by weary day and dark night
Shields held firm, plunging deep-red sharp sword and long spears
As fighting machines bereft of concerns and fears!

Achilles and Ajax mighty killers born to be
Destined as heroes, of valiant Greek tree
Godlike power in limbs of Herculean might
As was told by Homer's tale of Troy's last great fight!

For Greek pride the courageous Greeks warriors bled
Upon battlefields fallen true, their bloody dead!

Robert J. Lindley, 6-26-2019
Sonnet, ( What my muse just demanded of me )

[Tyr-Ziu Saxnot]

The Summer Rain - Poem by Henry David Thoreau

My books I'd fain cast off, I cannot read,
'Twixt every page my thoughts go stray at large
Down in the meadow, where is richer feed,
And will not mind to hit their proper targe.

Plutarch was good, and so was Homer too,
Our Shakespeare's life were rich to live again,
What Plutarch read, that was not good nor true,
Nor Shakespeare's books, unless his books were men.

Here while I lie beneath this walnut bough,
What care I for the Greeks or for Troy town,
If juster battles are enacted now
Between the ants upon this hummock's crown?

Bid Homer wait till I the issue learn,
If red or black the gods will favor most,
Or yonder Ajax will the phalanx turn,
Struggling to heave some rock against the host.

Tell Shakespeare to attend some leisure hour,
For now I've business with this drop of dew,
And see you not, the clouds prepare a shower--
I'll meet him shortly when the sky is blue.

This bed of herd's grass and wild oats was spread
Last year with nicer skill than monarchs use.
A clover tuft is pillow for my head,
And violets quite overtop my shoes.

And now the cordial clouds have shut all in,
And gently swells the wind to say all's well;
The scattered drops are falling fast and thin,
Some in the pool, some in the flower-bell.

I am well drenched upon my bed of oats;
But see that globe come rolling down its stem,
Now like a lonely planet there it floats,
And now it sinks into my garment's hem.

Drip drip the trees for all the country round,
And richness rare distills from every bough;
The wind alone it is makes every sound,
Shaking down crystals on the leaves below.

For shame the sun will never show himself,
Who could not with his beams e'er melt me so;
My dripping locks--they would become an elf,
Who in a beaded coat does gayly go.
Henry David Thoreau
************************************************** *******************************


Upon Battlefields Fallen True, Their Bloody Dead
( Part One )

For Greek pride the courageous Greeks warriors bled
Upon battlefields fallen true, their bloody dead
Thus many, from Greek mothers loving hearts were torn
Raised to be Greek heroes from day they were born.

Those giants brave and true as Homer did so write
Marching, fighting both by weary day and dark night
Shields held firm, plunging deep-red sharp sword and long spears
As fighting machines bereft of concerns and fears!

Achilles and Ajax mighty killers born to be
Destined as heroes, of valiant Greek tree
Godlike power in limbs of Herculean might
As was told by Homer's tale of Troy's last great fight!

For Greek pride the courageous Greeks warriors bled
Upon battlefields fallen true, their bloody dead!

Robert J. Lindley, 6-26-2019
Sonnet, ( What my muse just demanded of me )


Upon Battlefields Fallen True, Their Bloody Dead
( Part Two )

Fallen, courageous soul fleeing blood soaked soil
Battles no longer fought, long dark veil coming down.
Cessation of Life its pleasures, its daily toils
Small tis the reward of fame and hero's renown.

Yet such better than oblivion's return to dust
As life's ending, oft the payment for warring deeds.
Sacrifices for others power, greed and lusts
War torn ground soaked from brave warriors that bleed.

What of Greek pride or mighty heroic defense
Were not some deeds worthy, justified?
Are we more than just raging savages with no sense
Was heroic sacrifice true of those that died?

Were not some deeds worthy, justified
Was heroic sacrifice true of those that died?

Robert J. Lindley, 7-2-2019
Sonnet, ( What my muse just demanded of me )

Note: Muse demanded that I continue this piece
I sat and wrote this while logged in , about 15 minutes time.. -Tyr