Gone
by Adam Lindsay Gordon
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.
A few random poems:
- The Dreams Of My Heart by Sara Teasdale
- Алексей Толстой – С тех пор как я один
- A Form Of Women by Robert Creely
- Not Intrigued With Evening by Jalal ad-Din Muhammad Rumi
- Джон Мильтон – Написано в дни, когда ожидался штурм Лондона
- Green Circle by Satish Verma
- gazebo.html
- The house where I was born (09) by Yves Bonnefoy
- Жан де Лафонтен – Лисица и Аист
- Moonlight On The Door by William Barnes
- I see the Four-fold Man by William Blake
- Владимир Маяковский – Заносы не дают железным дорогам жить… (РОСТА №838)
- So tired by Tanisha Avarsekar
- Владимир Луговской – Капитанский штиль
- Cold Eyes by Vaishnavi Prakash
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
- Владимир Маяковский – Два опиума
- Владимир Маяковский – Два не совсем обычных случая
- Владимир Маяковский – Два гренадера и один адмирал
- Владимир Маяковский – Два Берлина
- Владимир Маяковский – Дурацкий сон (РОСТА №234)
- Владимир Маяковский – Думай об армии (РОСТА №873)
- Владимир Маяковский – Дожмем! В России буржуазия побеждена… (РОСТА №841)
- Владимир Маяковский – Донецкий шахтер голодает… (РОСТА №619)
- Владимир Маяковский – Домой
- Владимир Маяковский – Дом Герцена
- Владимир Маяковский – Долой волокиту! Да здравствует революционная инициатива! (РОСТА № 493 )
- Владимир Маяковский – Долой мешечников (РОСТА №525)
- Владимир Маяковский – Долг Украине
- Владимир Маяковский – Добьем! (РОСТА №745)
- Владимир Маяковский – Для Донбасса формируется поезд с подарками (РОСТА №938)
- Владимир Маяковский – Для чего оттягивают паны мириться?.. (РОСТА №264)
- Владимир Маяковский – Детский театр из собственной квартирки
- Владимир Маяковский – Дешевая распродажа
- Владимир Маяковский – День в маевочку мою… (Главполитпросвет №151)
- Владимир Маяковский – Дело красноармейцев драться… (РОСТА №336)
More external links (open in a new tab):
Doska or the Board – write anything
Search engines:
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.
Parallel Translations of Poetry
The Poetry Repository – an online library of poems, poetry, verse and poetic works
Adam Lindsay Gordon (1833 – 1870) was an Australian or British-Australian poet, horseman, police officer and politician. He is considered to be one of the first national Australian poets.