Ebenezer Elliott Poems

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A Poet's Epitaph

STOP mortal ! Here thy brother lies,
The Poet of the Poor ;
His books were rivers, woods and skies,
The meadow and the moor

In These Days . . .

In these days, every mother's son or daughter
Writes verse, which no one reads except the writer,
Although, uninked, the paper would be whiter,


Dark, deep, and cold the current flows
Unto the sea where no wind blows,
Seeking the land which no one knows.

The People's Anthem

When wilt Thou save the people?
O God of mercy! when?
Not kings and lords, but nations!
Not thrones and crowns, but men!

The Builders

Spring, summer, autumn, winter,
Come duly, as of old;
Winds blow, suns set, and morning saith,
'Ye hills, put on your gold.'

Steam In The Desert

'God made all nations of one blood,'
And bade the nation-wedding flood
Bear good for good to men:
Lo, interchange is happiness! -

Rural Rambles - The Village

Sweet village! where my early days were pass'd,
Though parted long, we meet, we meet at last!
Like friends, imbrown'd by many a sun and wind,

To The Bramble Flower

Thy fruit full well the schoolboy knows,
Wild bramble of the brake!
So put thou forth thy small white rose;
I love it for his sake.

The Tree Of Rivelin

The lightning, like an Arab, cross'd
The moon's dark path on high,
And wild on Rivelin writhed and toss'd
The stars and troubled sky,

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