IN Collins Street standeth a statute tall,

A statue tall, on a pillar of stone,

Telling its story, to great and small,

Of the dust reclaimed from the sand waste lone;

Weary and wasted, and worn and wan,

Feeble and faint, and languid and low,

He lay on the desert a dying man;

Who has gone, my friends, where we all must go.

There are perils by land, and perils by water,

Short, I ween, are the obsequies

Of the landsman lost, but they may be shorter

With the mariner lost in the trackless seas;

And well for him, when the timbers start,

And the stout ship reels and settles below,

Who goes to his doom with as bold a heart,

As that dead man gone where we all must go.

Man is stubborn his rights to yield,

And redder than dews at eventide

Are the dews of battle, shed on the field,

By a nation’s wrath or a despot’s pride;

But few who have heard their death-knell roll,

From the cannon’s lips where they faced the foe,

Have fallen as stout and steady of soul,

As that dead man gone where we all must go.

Traverse yon spacious burial ground,

Many are sleeping soundly there,

Who pass’d with mourners standing around,

Kindred, and friends, and children fair;

Did he envy such ending? ’twere hard to say;

Had he cause to envy such ending? no;

Can the spirit feel for the senseless clay,

When it once has gone where we all must go?

What matters the sand or the whitening chalk,

The blighted herbage, the black’ning log,

The crooked beak of the eagle-hawk,

Or the hot red tongue of the native dog?

That couch was rugged, those sextons rude,

Yet, in spite of a leaden shroud, we know

That the bravest and fairest are earth-worms’ food,

When once they’ve gone where we all must go.

With the pistol clenched in his failing hand,

With the death mist spread o’er his fading eyes,

He saw the sun go down on the sand,

And he slept, and never saw it rise;

’Twas well; he toil’d till his task was done,

Constant and calm in his latest throe,

The storm was weathered, the battle was won,

When he went, my friends, where we all must go.

God grant that whenever, soon or late,

Our course is run and our goal is reach’d,

We may meet our fate as steady and straight

As he whose bones in yon desert bleach’d;

No tears are needed—our cheeks are dry,

We have none to waste upon living woe;

Shall we sigh for one who has ceased to sigh,

Having gone, my friends, where we all must go?

We tarry yet, we are toiling still,

He is gone and he fares the best,

He fought against odds, he struggled up hill,

He has fairly earned his season of rest;

No tears are needed—fill our the wine,

Let the goblets clash, and the grape juice flow,

Ho! pledge me a death-drink, comrade mine,

To a brave man gone where we all must go.

Poetry Monster – Home

A few random poems:

External links

Bat’s Poetry Page – more poetry by Fledermaus

Talking Writing Monster’s Page –

Batty Writing – the bat’s idle chatter, thoughts, ideas and observations, all original, all fresh

Poems in English 

• English Poetry. Philip James Bailey. Festus – 41. Филип Джеймс Бэйли. by Poetry In English
• English Poetry. Philip James Bailey. Festus – 44. Филип Джеймс Бэйли. by Poetry In English
• English Poetry. Ella Wheeler Wilcox. The Blasphemy of Guns. Элла Уилкокс. by Poetry In English
• English Poetry. Algernon Charles Swinburne. The Triumph of Time. Алджернон Чарльз Суинбёрн. by Poetry In English
• English Poetry. William Barnes. Second Collection. The Heäre. Уильям Барнс. by Poetry In English
• English Poetry. Isaac Watts. Hymn 2. Исаак Уоттс. by Poetry In English
• English Poetry. Henry Livingston. To the Memory of Sarah Livingston. Генри Ливингстон. by Poetry In English
• English Poetry. Edna St. Vincent Millay. Assault. Эдна Сент-Винсент Миллей. by Poetry In English
• English Poetry. Lucy Maud Montgomery. As the Heart Hopes. Люси Мод Монтгомери. by Poetry In English
• English Poetry. Rupert Chawner Brooke. In Examination. Руперт Брук. by Poetry In English
• English Poetry. Percy Bysshe Shelley. Satan Broken Loose. Перси Биши Шелли. Тень Ада by Poetry In English
• English Poetry. David Herbert Lawrence. Whales Weep Not!. Дэвид Герберт Лоуренс. by Poetry In English
• English Poetry. Thomas Aird. The Devil’s Dream on Mount Aksbeck. Томас Эрд. by Poetry In English
• English Poetry. George Eliot. How Lisa Loved the King. Джордж Элиот. by Poetry In English
• English Poetry. Charles Lockhart. Epistle to a Friend, with a Copy of Burns’s Letters. Чарльз Локкарт. Послание другу при возвращении ему томиков стихов Бернса by Poetry In English
• English Poetry. Charles Wesley. Hark! A Voice Div­ides the Sky. Чарльз Уэсли. by Poetry In English
• English Poetry. Robert William Service. My Room. Роберт Уильям Сервис. by Poetry In English
• English Poetry. John Townsend Trowbridge. Midwinter. Джон Таунсенд Троубридж. by Poetry In English
• English Poetry. Robert William Service. Dark Glasses. Роберт Уильям Сервис. by Poetry In English
• English Poetry. Robert William Service. Dark Glasses. Роберт Уильям Сервис. by Poetry In English

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Yandex – the best search engine for searches in Russian (and the best overall image search engine, in any language, anywhere)

Qwant – the best search engine for searches in French, German as well as Romance and Germanic languages.

Ecosia – a search engine that supposedly… plants trees

Duckduckgo – the real alternative and a search engine that actually works. Without much censorship or partisan politics.

Yahoo– yes, it’s still around, amazingly, miraculously, incredibly, but now it seems to be powered by Bing.

 

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