What I Live for

I Live for those who love me,

Whose hearts are kind and true;

For the heaven that smiles above me,

And awaits my spirit, too;

For all human ties that bind me,

For the task my God assigned me,

For the bright hopes left behind me,

And the good that I can do.

I live to learn their story,

Who suffered for my sake;

To emulate their glory,

And follow in their wake;

Bards, patriots, martyrs, sages,

The noble of all ages,

Whose deeds crown History’s pages,

And Time’s great volume make.

I live to hail that season,

By gifted minds foretold,

When man shall live by reason,

And not alone by gold;

When man to man united,

And every wrong thing righted,

The whole world shall be lighted

As Eden was of old.

I live for those who love me,

For those who know me true;

For the heaven that smiles above me,

And awaits my spirit, too;

For the cause that needs assistance,

For the wrongs that need resistance,

For the future in the distance,

And the good that I can do!

~From McGuffey’s fifth reader~ 

I really loved this poem!

He hides a smiling face

God moves in a mysterious way

His wonders to perform;

He plants his footsteps in the sea,

And rides upon the storm.

Deep in unfathomable mines

Of never failing skill,

He treasures up his bright designs

And works his sovereign will

Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take,

The clouds ye so much dread

And big with mercy, and shall break

In blessings on your head.

Judge not the lord by feeble sense,

But trust him for his grace;

Behind a frowning providence

He hides a smiling face.

His purpose will ripen fast,

Unfolding every hour;

The bud may have bitter taste,

But sweet will be the flower.

Blind unbelief is sure to err,

And scan his work in vain:

God is his own interpreter,

And He will make it plain.

~William Cowper~

I Have Not Yet Begun to Fight!

Day 265

“I Have Not Yet Begun to Fight”

  Written By: I personally do not know but someone had to have written it.

An American frigate, a frigate of fame,
With guns mounting forty, the Richard by name,
Sail’d to cruise in the channels of old England,


With valiant commander, Paul Jones was the man,
Hurrah! Hurrah! our country for ever, Hurrah!
We had not cruised long, before he espies
A large forty-four, and a twenty likewise;
Well-manned with bold seamen, well laid in with stores,
In consort  to drive us from old England’s shores.
Hurrah! Hurrah! Our country for ever, Hurrah!


About twelve at noon Pearson came alongside,
With a loud speaking trumpet, “Whence came you?” he cried,
“Return me an answer, I hail’d you before,
Or if you do not, a broadside I’ll pour.”
Hurrah! Hurrah! Our country for ever, Hurrah!


Paul Jones then said to his men, every one,
“Let every true seaman stand firm to his gun!
We’ll receive a broadside from this bold Englishman,
And like true Yankee sailors return it again.”
Hurrah! Hurrah! Our country for ever, Hurrah!


The contest was bloody, both decks ran with gore,
And the sea seemed to blaze, while the cannon did roar;
“Fight on, my brave boy,” then Paul Jones he cried:
“And soon we will humble this bold Englishman’s pride.”
Hurrah! Hurrah! Our country for ever, Hurrah!


“Stand firm to your quarters- your duty don’t shun,
The first one that shrinks, through the body I’ll run;
Though their force is superior, yet they shall know,
What true, brave American seamen can do.”
Hurrah! Hurrah! Our country for ever, Hurrah!

The battle rolled on, till bold Pearson cried:
“Have you yet struck your colors? then come alongside!”
But so far from thinking that the battle was won,
Brave Paul Jones replied, “I’ve not yet begun!”
Hurrah! Hurrah! Our country for ever, Hurrah!

One life to give

Day 264

"I only regret that I have but one life to give for my country."

~Nathan Hale~

One life for Liberty

Day 263

Nathan Hale 

By: Francis Miles Finch 

To drum-beat and heart-beat,

A soldier marches by;

There is color in his cheek,

There is courage in his eye,

Yet to drum-beat and heart-beat

In a moment he must die.

By the starlight and moonlight,

He seeks the Briton’s camp;

He hears the rustling flag

And the armed sentry’s tramp’

And the starlight and moonlight

His silent wanderings lamp.

With slow tread and still tread,

He scans the tented line;

 And he counts the battery gun,

By the gaunt and shadowy pine;

And his slow tread and still tread

Gives no warning sign.

The dark wave, the plumed wave,

It meets his eager glance;

And it sparkles ‘neath the stars,

Like the glimmer of a lance

A dark wave, and plumed wave,

On an emerald expanse.

A sharp clan, a still clang,

And terror in the sound!

For the sentry, falcon-eyed,

In the camp a spy hath found;

With a sharp clang, a steel clang,

The patriot is bound.

With calm brow, and steady brow,,

He listens to his doom;

IN his look there is no fear,

Nor a shadow-trace of gloom;

But with calm brow and steady brow,

He robes him for the tomb.

In the long night, the still night,

He kneels upon the sod;

and the brutal guards withhold

E’en the solemn word of God!

In the long night, the still night,

He walks where Christ hath trod.

‘Neath the blue morn, the sunny morn,

He dies upon the tree;

And he mourns that he can lose

But one life for Liberty;

And in the blue morn, the sunny morn,

His spirit wings are free.

But his last words, his message-words,

They burn, lest friendly eye

Should read how proud and calm

A patriot could die,

With his last words his dying words,

A soldier’s battle-cry.

From Fame-leaf and Angel-leaf,

From monument and urn,

The sad of earth, the glad of heaven

His tragic fate shall learn;

But on Fame-leaf and Angle-leaf

The name of Hale shall burn!

The World Turned Upside Down

Day 261

Okay I'm running out of things to post and this was kind of a last minute desperate attempt of find something slightly interesting.

This song is from the error of the American war for independence so it is okay to post it even if it doesn't seem to relate at all. I think it's kinda cute; hope you like it to.

 

If buttercups buzz'd after the bee,
If boats were on land, churches on sea,
If ponies rode men and if grass ate the cows,
And cats should be chased into holes by the mouse,
If the mamas sold their babies
To the gypsies for half a crown;
If summer were spring and the other way round,
Then all the world would be upside down.   

Here is where I found it. I usually don't do links put this one looked okay to do. Even though I have noticed that songs written in 'the olden days' say a lot of words we don't use.

Well Bye,
®achel™

Ring out Our Independence!

Day 190

The Liberty Bell 
       Written by: Anonymous

There was tumult in the city,
In the quaint old Quaker town,
And the streets were rife with people,
Pacing restless up and down,
People gathering at corners,
Where they whispered, each to each,
And the sweat stood on their temples,
With the earnestness of speech.

As the bleak Atlantic currents
Lash the wild Newfoundland shore,
So they beat against the State House,
So they surged against the door;

And the mingling of their voices
Made a harmony profound,
Till the quiet street of Chestnut
Was all turbulent with sound.

“Will they do it?”-”Dare they do it?”
 “Who is speaking?”-”What’s the news?”
“What of Adams?”-”What of Sherman?”
“Oh, God grant they won’t refuse!”

Aloft in that high steeple
Sat the bellman, old and gray;
He was weary of the tyrant
And his iron-sceptered sway;
So he sat with one hand ready
On the clapper of the bell,
When his eye should catch the signal,
Very happy news to tell.

See! see! the dense crowd quivers
Through all its lengthy line,
As the boy beside the portal
Looks forth to give the sign.
With his small hands upward lifted, Breezes dallying with his hair,
Hark! with deep, clear intonation,
Breaks his young voice on the air.

Hushed the people’s swelling murmur, List the boy’s strong, joyous cry-
“Ring!” he shouts aloud, “Ring, Grandpa!
Ring! Oh, ring for Liberty!”
And, straightway, at the signal,
The old bellman lifts his hand,
And sends the good news, making
Iron music through the land.

How they shouted! What rejoicing!
How the old well shook the air,
Till the clang of Freedom ruffled
The clam, gliding Delaware!
How the bonfires and the torches
Illumed the night’s repose!
And from the flames, like Phoenix,
Fair Liberty arose!

That old bell now is silent,
And hushed its iron tongue,
But the spirit is awakened
Still lives-forever young.
And, while we greet the sunlight,
On the fourth of each July,
We’ll ne’er forget the bellman
Who, ‘twixt the earth and sky,
Rung out Our Independence;
Which, please God, shall never die!

This is one of my favorite poems, if not my favorite. I like the way it rhymes so much better than most poems and how good it makes everything sound. 

Well Bye, 

®achel™

Concord Hymn

Day 127

Concord Hymn  
 Written by: Ralph Waldo Emerson

By the rude bridge that arched the flood,
Their flag to April’s breeze unfurled,
Here once the embattled farmers stood,
And fired the shot heard found the world.


The foe long since in silence slept;
Alike the conqueror silent sleeps;
And time the ruined bridge has swept
Down the dark stream which seaward Creeps.


On this green bank, by this soft stream,
we sat today a votive stone;
That memory may their deed redeem
When, like our sires, our sons are gone.


Spirit, that made those heroes dare
To die, and leave their children free,
Bid time and nature gently spare
The shaft we raise to them and thee.

 I meant to post this back in April but forgot about it, so here it is a little lat hope you like it all the same. 

Concord Hymn was written at the request of the Battle Monument Committee 1836 by Emerson for the dedication of the Battle Monument in honor of the men who died in the Battle of Lexington and Concord.

Well Bye,

®achel™

You know the rest

  Day 109

Paul Revere’s Ride 
       Written by: Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Listen my children and you shall hear
Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere,
On the eighteenth of April, in Seventy-five;
Hardly a man is now alive
Who remembers that famous day and year.

He said to his friend, "If the British march
By land or sea from the town to-night,
Hang a lantern aloft in the belfry arch
Of the North Church tower as a signal light,--
One if by land, and two if by sea;
And I on the opposite shore will be,
Ready to ride and spread the alarm
Through every Middlesex village and farm,
For the country folk to be up and to arm."

Then he said "Good-night!" and with muffled oar
Silently rowed to the Charlestown shore,
Just as the moon rose over the bay,
Where swinging wide at her moorings lay
The Somerset, British man-of-war;
A phantom ship, with each mast and spar
Across the moon like a prison bar,
And a huge black hulk, that was magnified
By its own reflection in the tide.

Meanwhile, his friend through alley and street
Wanders and watches, with eager ears,
Till in the silence around him he hears
The muster of men at the barrack door,
The sound of arms, and the tramp of feet,
And the measured tread of the grenadiers,
Marching down to their boats on the shore.

Then he climbed the tower of the Old North Church,
By the wooden stairs, with stealthy tread,
To the belfry chamber overhead,
And startled the pigeons from their perch
On the sombre rafters, that round him made
Masses and moving shapes of shade,--
By the trembling ladder, steep and tall,
To the highest window in the wall,
Where he paused to listen and look down
A moment on the roofs of the town
And the moonlight flowing over all.

Beneath, in the churchyard, lay the dead,
In their night encampment on the hill,
Wrapped in silence so deep and still
That he could hear, like a sentinel's tread,
The watchful night-wind, as it went
Creeping along from tent to tent,
And seeming to whisper, "All is well!"
A moment only he feels the spell
Of the place and the hour, and the secret dread
Of the lonely belfry and the dead;
For suddenly all his thoughts are bent
On a shadowy something far away,
Where the river widens to meet the bay,--
A line of black that bends and floats
On the rising tide like a bridge of boats.

Meanwhile, impatient to mount and ride,
Booted and spurred, with a heavy stride
On the opposite shore walked Paul Revere.
Now he patted his horse's side,
Now he gazed at the landscape far and near,
Then, impetuous, stamped the earth,
And turned and tightened his saddle girth;
But mostly he watched with eager search
The belfry tower of the Old North Church,
As it rose above the graves on the hill,
Lonely and spectral and sombre and still.
And lo! as he looks, on the belfry's height
A glimmer, and then a gleam of light!
He springs to the saddle, the bridle he turns,
But lingers and gazes, till full on his sight
A second lamp in the belfry burns.

A hurry of hoofs in a village street,
A shape in the moonlight, a bulk in the dark,
And beneath, from the pebbles, in passing, a spark
Struck out by a steed flying fearless and fleet;
That was all! And yet, through the gloom and the light,
The fate of a nation was riding that night;
And the spark struck out by that steed, in his flight,
Kindled the land into flame with its heat.

He has left the village and mounted the steep,
And beneath him, tranquil and broad and deep,
Is the Mystic, meeting the ocean tides;
And under the alders that skirt its edge,
Now soft on the sand, now loud on the ledge,
Is heard the tramp of his steed as he rides.

It was twelve by the village clock
When he crossed the bridge into Medford town.
He heard the crowing of the cock,
And the barking of the farmer's dog,
And felt the damp of the river fog,
That rises after the sun goes down.

It was one by the village clock,
When he galloped into Lexington.
He saw the gilded weathercock
Swim in the moonlight as he passed,
And the meeting-house windows, black and bare,
Gaze at him with a spectral glare,
As if they already stood aghast
At the bloody work they would look upon.

It was two by the village clock,
When he came to the bridge in Concord town.
He heard the bleating of the flock,
And the twitter of birds among the trees,
And felt the breath of the morning breeze
Blowing over the meadow brown.
And one was safe and asleep in his bed
Who at the bridge would be first to fall,
Who that day would be lying dead,
Pierced by a British musket ball.

You know the rest. In the books you have read
How the British Regulars fired and fled,---
How the farmers gave them ball for ball,
From behind each fence and farmyard wall,
Chasing the redcoats down the lane,
Then crossing the fields to emerge again
Under the trees at the turn of the road,
And only pausing to fire and load.

So through the night rode Paul Revere;
And so through the night went his cry of alarm
To every Middlesex village and farm,---
A cry of defiance, and not of fear,
A voice in the darkness, a knock at the door,
And a word that shall echo for evermore!
For, borne on the night-wind of the Past,
Through all our history, to the last,
In the hour of darkness and peril and need,
The people will waken and listen to hear
The hurrying hoof-beats of that steed,
And the midnight message of Paul Revere. 



I thought I would pick a totally different title for this post, everyone always dose Paul Revere's Ride and although that is what it is I thought it would be fun to do something different.

Well Bye,
®achel™

The Men Who Make A Nation Great Are Men Who Dare To Die!!!

Day 61

Ballad of Princeton Battle

By: Henry Van Dyke 

Along Assunpink’s woody bank we left our campfires bright,

While like a fox with padded feet we stole away be night;

Cornwallis watched his Trenton trap,

And drained his glass, and took his nap;

But the ragged troops of Washington outflanked him in the night-

Up and away for Princeton,

By a secret road to Princeton-

We dragged our guns with muffled wheels to win another fight.

The icy trail was hard as iron, our footprints marked it red;

Our frosty breath went up like smoke to the winking stars o’erhead;

By Bear Swamp and by Miry Run,

Our muskets weighed at least a ton;

We shivered till o’er Stony Brook we saw that sun rise red;

Weary we tramped to Princeton; Bt all of us at Princeton

Would follow our chief through tick and thin

till the last of us was dead.

We looked beyond the upper bridge, across the swollen stream,

And there along the king’s highway we saw the Redcoats gleam;

‘Twas Mawhood’s regiment marching down

To finish us off at Trenton Town!

“Go cut the bridge”-and Mercer’s men crept up along the stream.

But the British turned towards Princeton,

Came bravely back for Princeton;

And all the rest of that dim hour was wilder than a dream.

They rushed thro’ Will Clark’s orchard, among the naked trees;

With horse and foot they hammered hared; Their bullets sang like bees;

And Mercer fell, and Haslet fell;

The bayonets cut us up like h***;

The chain shot mowed a bloody path beneath the twisted trees.

It looked all black for Princeton,

We lost our hopes of Princeton;

We wavered, and we broke and fled as leaves before the breeze.

Then down the hill from Tom Clark’s house rode Washington aflame

With holy ire; through smoke and fire, like mighty Mars he came.

“Come on, my men, parade with me,

We’ll make the braggart Redcoats flee”-

And up the hill against the guns, rode Washington aflame.

He turned the tide at Princeton;

The land was save at Princeton;

And they who fought, and they who fell, won liberty and fame.

Men praise our chief for weighty words, for counsel calm and high,

For prudence and enduring will, for cool, farseeing eye;

One thing he had all else above-

Courage that caught the soldier’s love,

And made the soldier’s loyal heart in danger’s hour beat high.

We saw it clear at Princeton;

‘Twas written here at Princeton;

THE MEN WHO MAKE A NATION GREAT ARE MEN WHO DARE TO DIE. 

Well Bye,
®achel™

We Have An Old Mother

Day 54

We Have An Old Mother
       Written by: Benjamin Franklin

We have an old mother that peevish is grown
She snubs us like children that scarce walk alone
She forgets we’re grown up and have sense of our own

*Refrain: Which nobody con deny, deny which nobody can deny.

If we don’t obey orders, whatever the case,
She frowns, and she chides and she loses all patience
and sometimes she hits us a slap in the face,
*Refrain

Her orders so odd are, we often suspect
That age has impaired her sound intellect
But still an old mother should have some respect.
*Refrain

We’ll join in her lawsuits to baffle all those
Who, to get what she has, will be often her foes;
But we know it must all be our own, when she goes.
*Refrain

Well Bye, 

®achel™

Hardly anyone has herd of the Ride…

Jack Jouett

Jack Jouett’s Rike

Written by: Joy Hakim

Hardly anyone has heard of the Ride

Of big Jack Jouett through the countryside;

No poet told of his frantic flight

Through Virginia’s forest in the dark of night

The British were marching. they were heading west

Seeking one prize over all the rest:

It was the man who had make the king glower,

Virginia’s governor-WANTED-for London’s tower,

Big Jack. feather in his cap, cut by briars short of sleeps,

Had revers to cross and fences to leap,

Till he reined in his horse and came to a stop

At a house, Monticello, on a mountain top.

“Dragoons,” he warned “They’re coming, They’re real!”

The governor, at breakfast, finished his meal.

Then he mounted his horse and rode off and away

A minute later-that’s the truth, so they say-

The redcoats arrived; too late, and they know it,

Thomas Jefferson was gone, with thanks to-

Jack Jouett

Dragoons = A British soldier

It's deenitly not "Paul Reveres Ride" but I was find of good.

Well Bye, 

®achel™

Yankee Doodle Dandy

Day 3

 Yankee Doodle
       Written by: Anonymous 1775 poem

Father and I went down to camp
Along with Captain Goodwin,
And there we saw the men and boys
As thick as hasty pudding.

Chorus*
Yankee Doodle keep it up,
Yankee Doodle dandy!
Mind the music and the steps,
And with the girls be handy!

There was Captain Washington
Upon a slapping stallion,
Giving orders to his men,
I guess there was a million.

Chorus*

And there they had a swamping gun
As big as a log of maple,
 On a deuced little cart!
 A load for Father’s cattle.

Chorus*


And every time they fired ti off,
It took a horn of powder;
 It made a noise like father’s gun,
Only a nation louder.

Chorus*

And there I saw a little keg.
 Its heads were made of leather-
They knocked upon it with little sticks
 To call the folks together.

Chorus*

The troopers, too, would gallop up
And fire right in our faces,
It scared me almost half to death
To see them run such races.

Chorus*

But I can’t tell you half I saw;
 They kept up such a smother,
 So I took off my hat, made a bow,
 And scampered home to mother.

Chorus*
Yankee Doodle keep it up,
Yankee Doodle dandy!
Mind the music and the steps,
And with the girls be handy!

Well Bye,
®achel™