Thomas Babbington Macaulay Brave Poems

  • 1.
    Oh, weep for Moncontour! Oh! weep for the hour,
    When the children of darkness and evil had power,
    When the horsemen of Valois triumphantly trod
    On the bosoms that bled for their rights and their God.
    ...
  • 2.
    Oh Britain! dear Isle, when the annals of story
    Shall tell of the deeds that thy children have done,
    When the strains of each poet shall sing of their glory,
    And the triumphs their skill and their valour have won.
    ...
  • 3.
    To horse! to horse! brave Cavaliers!
    To horse for Church and Crown!
    Strike, strike your tents! snatch up your spears!
    And ho for London town!
    ...
  • 4.
    Now glory to the Lord of hosts, from whom all glories are!
    And glory to our sovereign liege, King Henry of Navarre!
    Now let there be the merry sound of music and of dance,
    Through thy corn-fields green, and sunny vines, O pleasant land of France!
    ...
  • 5.
    IT is the dead of night:
    Yet more than noonday light
    Beams far and wide from many a gorgeous hall.
    Unnumbered harps are tinkling,
    ...
  • 6.
    Oh! wherefore come ye forth, in triumph from the North,
    With your hands, and your feet, and your raiment all red?
    And wherefore doth your rout send forth a joyous shout?
    And whence be the grapes of the wine-press which ye tread?
    ...
  • 7.
    The day of tumult, strife, defeat, was o'er;
    Worn out with toil, and noise, and scorn, and spleen,
    I slumbered, and in slumber saw once more
    A room in an old mansion, long unseen.
    ...
  • 8.
    NOW glory to the Lord of hosts, from whom all glories are!
    And glory to our sovereign liege, King Henry of Navarre!
    Now let there be the merry sound of music and of dance,
    Through thy corn-fields green, and sunny vines, O pleasant land of France!
    ...
Total 8 Brave Poems by Thomas Babbington Macaulay

Top 10 most used topics by Thomas Babbington Macaulay

Night 11 White 10 High 10 War 9 God 9 Love 8 Long 8 Dear 8 City 8 Brave 8

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William Butler Yeats Poem
The Wild Old Wicked Man
 by William Butler Yeats

Because I am mad about women
I am mad about the hills,'
Said that wild old wicked man
Who travels where God wills.
'Not to die on the straw at home.
Those hands to close these eyes,
That is all I ask, my dear,
From the old man in the skies.
...

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