William Ross Wallace
William Ross Wallace Poems
Blessings on the hand of women!
Angels guard its strength and grace,
In the palace, cottage, hovel,
...
A sound like a sound of thunder rolled,
And the heart of a nation stirred—
For the bell of Freedom, at midnight tolled,
...
I
Oh, well may the muffled drum be rolled,
And the Star-Flag wrapped around him;
...
How soft the murmur of this breeze!
How deep the Ocean’s purple hue I
How goldenly over all the Sun
...
I.
O ENGLAND, through thy lovely vales
And emerald hills how many now
...
IF you smile at the Snn for that pride when his eye
With a broad blaze of triumph looks round on the sky;
...
YES, factionists! well may ye tremble before
The hot thunderbolt waked in the Patriot’s sky,
To whose pure, moveless arch fi-om your own fcetid shore
...
THE Vine, the Vine! the glorious Vine
That binds the beaming brow of Mirth,
That sanctifies the solemn shrine,
And blushes o’er the joyous Earth,
...
“Who is my favorite bard?” you ask—
Well, let me think !—there’s Milton—Spenser—and
Dear Shakspeare—Bryant-—Elliott-—Street—
...
O’er the mountain and the valley; o’er the homestead and the mast,
Mighty as the sound of waters let the summons take the
...
I am a live American,
Life’s morning on my breast;
In action, action is my Heaven,
But Tophet is in rest.
...
-So had the hero lain all night,
With folded arms, and large white brow serene,
Like the calm stature of a deity,
Reposing after some benignant
...
From an American Shipyard
O WELL may a gladness illumine each brow,
And a triumph fr~m heart to heart leap,
...
I.
Through the desolate aisles of my shadowy caves,
On my mountains that must but for thee tower dim,
...
I.
SMILE On, smile on, thou sentinel moon
From yonder Heaven’s pure, azure deep.
...
I.
GOD of the Free! upon thy breath
Our Flag is for the Right unrolled;
...
I.
I LAY me down upon the leaves,
And bind my brow with flowers
...
William Ross Wallace Biography
William Ross Wallace (1819 – May 5, 1881) was an American poet, with Scottish roots, best known for writing "The Hand That Rocks The Cradle Is The Hand That Rules The World". Wallace was born in Lexington, Kentucky in 1819.His father, a Presbyterian preacher, died when Wallace was still an infant. Wallace was educated at Bloomington and South Hanover College, Indiana, and studied law in Lexington, Kentucky. In 1841, he moved to New York City, where he practiced law, and at the same time engaged in literary pursuits. His first work that attracted favorable criticism, a poem entitled "Perdita", published in the Union Magazine, was followed by "Alban" (1848), a poetical romance, and "Meditations in America" (1851). Other poems that attained popularity include "The Sword of Bunker Hill" (1861), a national hymn; "Keep Step with the Music of the Union" (1861); "The Liberty Bell" (1862); and his most famous poem, "The Hand That Rocks The Cradle Is The Hand That Rules The World" (1865), a poem praising motherhood. He contributed to Godey's Lady's Book, Harper's Magazine, Harper's Weekly, the New York Ledger, and the Louisville Daily Journal. William Cullen Bryant said of his writings: "They are marked by a splendor of imagination and an affluence of diction which show him the born poet." Edgar Allan Poe, a friend of Wallace's, referred to him as "one of the very noblest of American poets". Wallace died at his home in New York City on May 5, 1881, a week after suffering a stroke. He was working on a book to be titled Pleasures of the Beautiful at the time of his death)
The Best Poem Of William Ross Wallace
The Hand That Rocks The Cradle Is The Hand That Rules The World
Blessings on the hand of women!
Angels guard its strength and grace,
In the palace, cottage, hovel,
Oh, no matter where the place;
Would that never storms assailed it,
Rainbows ever gently curled;
For the hand that rocks the cradle
Is the hand that rules the world.
Infancy's the tender fountain,
Power may with beauty flow,
Mother's first to guide the streamlets,
From them souls unresting grow-
Grow on for the good or evil,
Sunshine streamed or evil hurled;
For the hand that rocks the cradle
Is the hand that rules the world.
Woman, how divine your mission
Here upon our natal sod!
Keep, oh, keep the young heart open
Always to the breath of God!
All true trophies of the ages
Are from mother-love impearled;
For the hand that rocks the cradle
Is the hand that rules the world.
Blessings on the hand of women!
Fathers, sons, and daughters cry,
And the sacred song is mingled
With the worship in the sky-
Mingles where no tempest darkens,
Rainbows evermore are hurled;
For the hand that rocks the cradle
Is the hand that rules the world.
William Ross Wallace Comments
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