Richard Realf
Richard Realf Poems
Day in, day out, through the long campaign,
I march in my place in the ranks;
And whether it shine or whether It rain
...
The swift years bring but slow development
Of the world’s majesty; for Freedom is
Born grandly, as a solid continent,
...
O Earth! Thou hast not any wind that blows
Which is not music; every weed of thine
Pressed rightly flows in aromatic wine;
...
This poet was very wealthy. If he missed
Worlds’ honors, and worlds’ plaudits, and the wage
...
By the waters of Life we sat together,
Hand in hand in the golden days
Of the beautiful early summer weather,
...
Straight to his heart the bullet crushed;
Down from his breast the red blood gushed,
And o'er his face a glory rushed.
...
When for me this end has come and I am dead,
and the little voluble, chattering daws of men
peck at me curiously, let it then be said
...
Fair are the flowers and the children, but their subtle suggestion is fairer;
Rare is the rose-burst of dawn, but the secret that clasps it is
...
A dreaming Poet lay upon the ground,
He plucked the grasses with his listless hands.
No voice was near him save the wishful sound
...
Richard Realf Biography
Richard Realf (born 14 June 1832 in Framfield, East Sussex, England - died 28 October 1878 in Oakland, California) was a poet who lived in many places throughout the United States, and whose work was informed by these travels. At the age of fifteen he began to write verses, and two years later he became amanuensis to a lady in Brighton. A traveling lecturer on phrenology recited some of young Realf's poems, as illustrations of ideality, and thereupon several literary people in Brighton sought him out and encouraged him. Under their patronage a collection of his poems was published, entitled "Guesses at the Beautiful" (London, 1852). Realf spent a year in Leicestershire, studying scientific agriculture, and in 1854 came to the United States.)
The Best Poem Of Richard Realf
My Sword Song
Day in, day out, through the long campaign,
I march in my place in the ranks;
And whether it shine or whether It rain
My good sword cheerily clanks;
It clanks and clangs in a lordly way,
Like the ring of an armed heel:
And this is the song which day by day
It sings with its lips of steel:
“Oh, friend from whom, a hundred times,
I have felt the steadfast grip
Of the all-renouncing love that climbs
The heights of fellowship,
Are you tired with treading the weary miles,
Are you faint with your bleeding limbs?
Do you hunger back for the olden smiles,
And the sound of the olden hymns?
“Has your heart grown weak since the radiant hour
When you leaped with a single bound
From your dreamy ease to the sovereign power
Of a living soul world-crowned?
Behold! the aloes of sacrifice
Are better than any wine;
And the bloody sweat of a Cause like this
Is an agony divine.
“Under the wail of the shuddering world,
Amoaning for its dead sons:
Over the bellowing thunders hurled
From the throats of wrathful guns;
Above the roar of the plunging line
That rocks with the fury of hell,
Runs the absolute voice— ’0 Earth of mine,
Be patient, for all is well!’”
Thus sings my sword to my soul; and I,
Albeit the way is long,
And black clouds thicken athwart the sky,
Still keep my spirit strong;
For whether I live, or whether I lie
On the red ground ghastly arid stark,
Beyond the carnage I shall descry
God shining across the dark.
Richard Realf Comments
Richard Realf Popularity
Richard Realf Popularity
Delivering Poems Around The World
Poems are the property of their respective owners. All information has been reproduced here for educational and informational purposes to benefit site visitors, and is provided at no charge...
4/19/2024 7:27:37 AM # 1.0.0.1119
