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:
- Яков Полонский – Белая ночь
- The Polar Koala Bear by Robby Charters
- Владимир Маяковский – В России голод… (Главполитпросвет № 236)
- Владимир Корнилов – Иннокентий Анненский
- Tom’s Garland poem – Gerard Manley Hopkins poems
- Aunt Jennifers Tigers
- The Gardener LXVIII: None Lives For Ever, Brother by Rabindranath Tagore
- The End of the Day poem – Amy Levy poems | Poems and Poetry
- The Sea Wind by Sara Teasdale
- With Ships the Sea was Sprinkled Far and Nigh by William Wordsworth
- Fairy Land iii by William Shakespeare
- He Said To by Marvin Bell
- Ruined World by Michael Yuan
- March on, Yes! by Miles
- Олег Григорьев – Совершенно откровенно
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
- Robert Burns: Extempore On Some Commemorations Of Thomson:
- Robert Burns: Epigram On Seeing Miss Fontenelle In A Favourite Character:
- Robert Burns: The Rights Of Woman: An Occasional Address. Spoken by Miss Fontenelle on her benefit night, November 26, 1792.
- Robert Burns: Auld Rob Morris:
- Robert Burns: Highland Mary:
- Robert Burns: My Wife’s A Winsome Wee Thing:
- Robert Burns: I’ll Meet Thee On The Lea Rig:
- Robert Burns: Fragment Of Song:
- Robert Burns: Saw Ye Bonie Lesley:
- Robert Burns: Love For Love:
- Robert Burns: Bessy And Her Spinnin’ Wheel:
- Robert Burns: The Country Lass:
- Robert Burns: The Deil’s Awa Wi’ The Exciseman:
- Robert Burns: The Deuks Dang O’er My Daddie:
- Robert Burns: O Can Ye Labour Lea?:
- Robert Burns: The Slave’s Lament:
- Robert Burns: Kellyburn Braes:
- Robert Burns: Lady Mary Ann:
- Robert Burns: Sic A Wife As Willie Had:
- Robert Burns: My Collier Laddie:
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.