# Absolutely badass old poems

**URL:** <https://boards.straightdope.com/t/absolutely-badass-old-poems/691382>\
**Category:** Cafe Society\
**Created:** [June 22, 2014, 7:31pm UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/absolutely-badass-old-poems/691382 "2014-06-22T19:31:38Z")\
**Posts on this page:** 20\
**Page:** 2

<div class="post-metadata">

**Author:** ![Sattua](https://sea3.discourse-cdn.com/straightdope/user_avatar/boards.straightdope.com/sattua/32/11906_2.png) [@Sattua](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/Sattua)\
**Post date:** [June 22, 2014, 10:24pm UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/absolutely-badass-old-poems/691382/21 "2014-06-22T22:24:28Z")

</div>

Two come to mind. First, [Cimmeria](http://conan.wikia.com/wiki/Cimmeria_%28poem%29) by Robert. E. Howard. First stanza goes:

> [@](#):
>
> I remember  
> The dark woods, masking slopes of sombre hills;  
> The grey clouds’ leaden everlasting arch;  
> The dusky streams that flowed without a sound,  
> And the lone winds that whispered down the passes.

And then, also this bit from Act I, Scene 4 of Richard III, exceptionally excellent for badass scuba divers:

> [@](#):
>
> Methought I saw a thousand fearful wrecks;  
> Ten thousand men that fishes gnaw’d upon;  
> Wedges of gold, great anchors, heaps of pearl,  
> Inestimable stones, unvalued jewels, 860  
> All scatter’d in the bottom of the sea:  
> Some lay in dead men’s skulls; and, in those holes  
> Where eyes did once inhabit, there were crept,  
> As 'twere in scorn of eyes, reflecting gems,  
> Which woo’d the slimy bottom of the deep, 865  
> And mock’d the dead bones that lay scatter’d by.

---

<div class="post-metadata">

**Author:** ![Cunctator](https://avatars.discourse-cdn.com/v4/letter/c/43a26b/32.png) [@Cunctator](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/Cunctator)\
**Post date:** [June 22, 2014, 10:32pm UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/absolutely-badass-old-poems/691382/22 "2014-06-22T22:32:40Z")

</div>

How about _Casabianca_, by Felicia Heymans, the poem whose first two lines almost everyone can recite:

> [@](#):
>
> The boy stood on the burning deck  
> Whence all but he had fled;  
> The flame that lit the battle’s wreck  
> Shone round him o’er the dead.  
> Yet beautiful and bright he stood,  
> As born to rule the storm;  
> A creature of heroic blood,  
> A proud, though child-like form.
> 
> The flames rolled on–he would not go  
> Without his Father’s word;  
> That father, faint in death below,  
> His voice no longer heard.
> 
> He called aloud–‘say, Father, say  
> If yet my task is done?’  
> He knew not that the chieftain lay  
> Unconscious of his son.
> 
> ‘Speak, father!’ once again he cried,  
> ‘If I may yet be gone!’  
> And but the booming shots replied,  
> And fast the flames rolled on.
> 
> Upon his brow he felt their breath,  
> And in his waving hair,  
> And looked from that lone post of death  
> In still yet brave despair.
> 
> And shouted but once more aloud,  
> ‘My father! must I stay?’  
> While o’er him fast, through sail and shroud,  
> The wreathing fires made way.
> 
> They wrapt the ship in splendour wild,  
> They caught the flag on high,  
> And streamed above the gallant child,  
> Like banners in the sky.
> 
> There came a burst of thunder sound–  
> The boy–oh! where was he?  
> Ask of the winds that far around  
> With fragments strewed the sea!–
> 
> With mast, and helm, and pennon fair,  
> That well had borne their part–  
> But the noblest thing which perished there  
> Was that young faithful heart.
> 
> Note: Young Casabianca, a boy about thirteen years old, son of the admiral of the Orient, remained at his post (in the Battle of the Nile), after the ship had taken fire, and all the guns had been abandoned; and perished in the explosion of the vessel, when the flames had reached the powder.

---

<div class="post-metadata">

**Author:** ![kambuckta](https://avatars.discourse-cdn.com/v4/letter/k/53a042/32.png) [@kambuckta](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/kambuckta)\
**Post date:** [June 22, 2014, 10:40pm UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/absolutely-badass-old-poems/691382/23 "2014-06-22T22:40:38Z")

</div>

_Matilda Who Told Lies and was Burned to Death._ (Hillaire Belloc)

Matilda told such Dreadful Lies,  
It made one Gasp and Stretch one’s Eyes;  
Her Aunt, who, from her Earliest Youth,  
Had kept a Strict Regard for Truth,  
Attempted to Believe Matilda:  
The effort very nearly killed her,  
And would have done so, had not She  
Discovered this Infirmity.  
For once, towards the Close of Day,  
Matilda, growing tired of play,  
And finding she was left alone,  
Went tiptoe to the Telephone  
And summoned the Immediate Aid  
Of London’s Noble Fire-Brigade.  
Within an hour the Gallant Band  
Were pouring in on every hand,  
From Putney, Hackney Downs, and Bow.  
With Courage high and Hearts a-glow,  
They galloped, roaring through the Town,  
‘Matilda’s House is Burning Down!’  
Inspired by British Cheers and Loud  
Proceeding from the Frenzied Crowd,  
They ran their ladders through a score  
Of windows on the Ball Room Floor;  
And took Peculiar Pains to Souse  
The Pictures up and down the House,  
Until Matilda’s Aunt succeeded  
In showing them they were not needed;  
And even then she had to pay  
To get the Men to go away,  
It happened that a few Weeks later  
Her Aunt was off to the Theatre  
To see that Interesting Play  
The Second Mrs. Tanqueray.  
She had refused to take her Niece  
To hear this Entertaining Piece:  
A Deprivation Just and Wise  
To Punish her for Telling Lies.  
That Night a Fire did break out–  
You should have heard Matilda Shout!  
You should have heard her Scream and Bawl,  
And throw the window up and call  
To People passing in the Street–  
(The rapidly increasing Heat  
Encouraging her to obtain  
Their confidence) – but all in vain!  
For every time she shouted ‘Fire!’  
They only answered ‘Little Liar!’  
And therefore when her Aunt returned,  
Matilda, and the House, were Burned.

😉

---

<div class="post-metadata">

**Author:** ![Sefton](https://avatars.discourse-cdn.com/v4/letter/s/5daacb/32.png) [@Sefton](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/Sefton)\
**Post date:** [June 22, 2014, 10:43pm UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/absolutely-badass-old-poems/691382/24 "2014-06-22T22:43:22Z")

</div>

Thomas Macaulay wrote [Lays of Ancient Rome](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lays_of_Ancient_Rome), and the most-quoted lines are these:

_Then out spake brave Horatius,  
The Captain of the Gate:  
“To every man upon this earth  
Death cometh soon or late.  
And how can man die better  
Than facing fearful odds,  
For the ashes of his fathers,  
And the temples of his Gods.”_

---

<div class="post-metadata">

**Author:** ![wedgehed](https://avatars.discourse-cdn.com/v4/letter/w/8edcca/32.png) [@wedgehed](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/wedgehed)\
**Post date:** [June 22, 2014, 10:43pm UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/absolutely-badass-old-poems/691382/25 "2014-06-22T22:43:40Z")

</div>

Randall Jarrell’s **The Death of the Ball Turret Gunner** gets right to it.

_From my mother’s sleep I fell into the State,  
And I hunched in its belly till my wet fur froze.  
Six miles from earth, loosed from its dream of life,  
I woke to black flak and the nightmare fighters.  
When I died they washed me out of the turret with a hose._

---

<div class="post-metadata">

**Author:** ![Rick\_Kitchen](https://sea3.discourse-cdn.com/straightdope/user_avatar/boards.straightdope.com/rick_kitchen/32/522_2.png) [@Rick\_Kitchen](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/Rick_Kitchen)\
**Post date:** [June 23, 2014, 12:05am UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/absolutely-badass-old-poems/691382/26 "2014-06-23T00:05:22Z")

</div>

“The Highwayman”, by Alfred Noyes. My all-time favorite poem. The rhythms are just …  
The first stanza:

> [@](#):
>
> The wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees.  
> The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas.  
> The road was a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,  
> And the highwayman came riding—  
> Riding—riding—  
> The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn-door.

---

<div class="post-metadata">

**Author:** ![Battle\_Pope](https://avatars.discourse-cdn.com/v4/letter/b/4bbf92/32.png) [@Battle\_Pope](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/Battle_Pope)\
**Post date:** [June 23, 2014, 12:34am UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/absolutely-badass-old-poems/691382/27 "2014-06-23T00:34:32Z")

</div>

_How Gilbert Died_ by A.B. Patterson about the death of the bushranger [John Gilbert](http://simple.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Gilbert_(bushranger))

> [@](#):
>
> But Gilbert walked from the open door  
> In a confident style and rash;  
> He heard at his side the rifles roar,  
> And he heard the bullets crash.  
> But he laughed as he lifted his pistol-hand,  
> And he fired at the rifle flash.
> 
> Then out of the shadows the troopers aimed  
> At his voice and the pistol sound.  
> With the rifle flashes the darkness flamed -  
> He staggered and spun around,  
> And they riddled his body with rifle balls  
> As it lay on the blood-soaked ground.

---

<div class="post-metadata">

**Author:** ![Superhal](https://avatars.discourse-cdn.com/v4/letter/s/b4bc9f/32.png) [@Superhal](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/Superhal)\
**Post date:** [June 23, 2014, 12:34am UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/absolutely-badass-old-poems/691382/28 "2014-06-23T00:34:37Z")

</div>

What kind of badass are we talking about?

Kung fu movie badass: Jabberwocky  
Makes you go “Holy shit, that’s amazing”: Eminem’s use of palindromes at the sentence level in “Without Me”:  
_But sometimes the shit just seems, everybody only wants to discuss me  
So this must mean I’m disgusting, but its just me I’m just obscene_  
(becomes more obvious when you see his breakdown in the video.)  
Makes other poets go “Holy shit, I wish I thought of that”: ee cummings

---

<div class="post-metadata">

**Author:** ![Sitnam](https://avatars.discourse-cdn.com/v4/letter/s/6a8cbe/32.png) [@Sitnam](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/Sitnam)\
**Post date:** [June 23, 2014, 1:03am UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/absolutely-badass-old-poems/691382/29 "2014-06-23T01:03:25Z")

</div>

When you’re wounded and left on Afghanistan’s plains,  
And the women come out to cut up what remains  
Jest roll on your rifle and blow out your brains  
An’go to your god like a soldier

---

<div class="post-metadata">

**Author:** ![Sitnam](https://avatars.discourse-cdn.com/v4/letter/s/6a8cbe/32.png) [@Sitnam](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/Sitnam)\
**Post date:** [June 23, 2014, 1:09am UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/absolutely-badass-old-poems/691382/30 "2014-06-23T01:09:10Z")

</div>

The OP might have the best one though, I still remember lines from it when we read it first in Junior high.

And the might of the Gentile, unsmooth by the sword,  
Hath melted like snow at the glance of The Lord.

I was never religious, but that was some Old Testament badassery.

---

<div class="post-metadata">

**Author:** ![Reeses\_Monkey](https://sea3.discourse-cdn.com/straightdope/user_avatar/boards.straightdope.com/reeses_monkey/32/2885_2.png) [@Reeses\_Monkey](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/Reeses_Monkey)\
**Post date:** [June 23, 2014, 1:38am UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/absolutely-badass-old-poems/691382/31 "2014-06-23T01:38:09Z")

</div>

Robert Service, “[The Cremation of Sam McGee](http://www.poets.org/poetsorg/poem/cremation-sam-mcgee)”

Here are a few stanzas:

There wasn’t a breath in that land of death,  
and I hurried, horror-driven  
With a corpse half hid that I couldn’t get rid,  
because of a promise given;  
It was lashed to the sleigh, and it seemed to say.  
“You may tax your brawn and brains,  
But you promised true, and it’s up to you  
to cremate these last remains”.

Now a promise made is a debt unpaid,  
and the trail has its own stern code,  
In the days to come, though my lips were dumb  
in my heart how I cursed that load!  
In the long, long night, by the lone firelight,  
while the huskies, round in a ring,  
Howled out their woes to the homeless snows–  
Oh God, how I loathed the thing!

And every day that quiet clay  
seemed to heavy and heavier grow;  
And on I went, though the dogs were spent  
and the grub was getting low.  
The trail was bad, and I felt half mad,  
but I swore I would not give in;  
And I’d often sing to the hateful thing,  
and it hearkened with a grin.

---

<div class="post-metadata">

**Author:** ![Baker](https://avatars.discourse-cdn.com/v4/letter/b/bb73d2/32.png) [@Baker](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/Baker)\
**Post date:** [June 23, 2014, 1:47am UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/absolutely-badass-old-poems/691382/32 "2014-06-23T01:47:18Z")

</div>

> [@Sefton](#):
>
> Thomas Macaulay wrote [Lays of Ancient Rome](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lays_of_Ancient_Rome), and the most-quoted lines are these:
> 
> _Then out spake brave Horatius,  
> The Captain of the Gate:  
> “To every man upon this earth  
> Death cometh soon or late.  
> And how can man die better  
> Than facing fearful odds,  
> For the ashes of his fathers,  
> And the temples of his Gods.”_

This is my favorite verse of that poem.

---

<div class="post-metadata">

**Author:** ![TubaDiva](https://sea3.discourse-cdn.com/straightdope/user_avatar/boards.straightdope.com/tubadiva/32/507_2.png) [@TubaDiva](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/TubaDiva)\
**Post date:** [June 23, 2014, 2:01am UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/absolutely-badass-old-poems/691382/33 "2014-06-23T02:01:24Z")

</div>

I have something truly old and badass and profound and something not so old but incredibly funky and badass.

First, the funk, I present Lord Buckley’s take on Shakespeare:

[http://www.lordbuckley.com/LBC\_The\_Word/LBC\_Transcriptions/Marc\_Antonys\_Funeral\_Oration.htm](http://www.lordbuckley.com/LBC_The_Word/LBC_Transcriptions/Marc_Antonys_Funeral_Oration.htm)

_Hipsters, flipsters, and finger-poppin’ daddies,  
Knock me your lobes,  
I came to lay Caesar out,  
Not to hip you to him.  
The bad jazz that a cat blows,  
Wails long after he’s cut out.  
The groovy is often stashed with their frames,  
So don’t put Caesar down.  
The swinging Brutus hath laid a story on you_ …

(God’s own drunk and a fearless man, you could look it up.)

---

<div class="post-metadata">

**Author:** ![TubaDiva](https://sea3.discourse-cdn.com/straightdope/user_avatar/boards.straightdope.com/tubadiva/32/507_2.png) [@TubaDiva](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/TubaDiva)\
**Post date:** [June 23, 2014, 2:04am UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/absolutely-badass-old-poems/691382/34 "2014-06-23T02:04:23Z")

</div>

This was my great-grandmother’s favorite poem of all time. She could recite it in full all her life.

William Cullen Bryant, _Thanatopsis_

> **[16 Thanatopsis - Collection at Bartleby.com](https://www.bartleby.com/lit-hub/yale-book-of-american-verse/16-thanatopsis/)**
>
> 16 Thanatopsis TO HIM who in the love of Nature holdsCommunion with her visible forms, she speaksA various language; for his gayer hoursShe has a voice of gladness, and

_TO HIM who in the love of Nature holds   
Communion with her visible forms, she speaks   
A various language;_

---

<div class="post-metadata">

**Author:** ![TubaDiva](https://sea3.discourse-cdn.com/straightdope/user_avatar/boards.straightdope.com/tubadiva/32/507_2.png) [@TubaDiva](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/TubaDiva)\
**Post date:** [June 23, 2014, 2:06am UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/absolutely-badass-old-poems/691382/35 "2014-06-23T02:06:06Z")

</div>

And, of course, Matthew Arnold, “Dover Beach”

[http://www.victorianweb.org/authors/arnold/writings/doverbeach.html](http://www.victorianweb.org/authors/arnold/writings/doverbeach.html)

_Ah, love, let us be true  
To one another! for the world, which seems  
To lie before us like a land of dreams,  
So various, so beautiful, so new,  
Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light,  
Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain;  
And we are here as on a darkling plain  
Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight,  
Where ignorant armies clash by night._

---

<div class="post-metadata">

**Author:** ![RealityChuck](https://sea3.discourse-cdn.com/straightdope/user_avatar/boards.straightdope.com/realitychuck/32/195_2.png) [@RealityChuck](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/RealityChuck)\
**Post date:** [June 23, 2014, 2:49am UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/absolutely-badass-old-poems/691382/36 "2014-06-23T02:49:22Z")

</div>

[The Ballad of Eskimo Nell.](http://low.net.au/eskimo.html)  
Is badass and bawdy as hell.  
The writer’s unknown  
But your minds will be blown  
By the poem too dirty to tell.

---

<div class="post-metadata">

**Author:** ![dropzone](https://sea3.discourse-cdn.com/straightdope/user_avatar/boards.straightdope.com/dropzone/32/7515_2.png) [@dropzone](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/dropzone)\
**Post date:** [June 23, 2014, 3:14am UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/absolutely-badass-old-poems/691382/37 "2014-06-23T03:14:54Z")

</div>

> [@Sefton](#):
>
> Thomas Macaulay wrote [Lays of Ancient Rome](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lays_of_Ancient_Rome), and the most-quoted lines are these:
> 
> _Then out spake brave Horatius,  
> The Captain of the Gate:  
> “To every man upon this earth  
> Death cometh soon or late.  
> And how can man die better  
> Than facing fearful odds,  
> For the ashes of his fathers,  
> And the temples of his Gods.”_

Are boys still taught to think like that? Like “The Impossible Dream,”

> [@](#):
>
> To dream … the impossible dream …  
> To fight … the unbeatable foe …  
> To bear … with unbearable sorrow …  
> To run … where the brave dare not go …  
> To right … the unrightable wrong …  
> To love … pure and chaste from afar …  
> To try … when your arms are too weary …  
> To reach … the unreachable star …
> 
> This is my quest, to follow that star …  
> No matter how hopeless, no matter how far …  
> To fight for the right, without question or pause …  
> To be willing to march into Hell, for a Heavenly cause …
> 
> And I know if I’ll only be true, to this glorious quest,  
> That my heart will lie will lie peaceful and calm,  
> when I’m laid to my rest …  
> And the world will be better for this:  
> That one man, scorned and covered with scars,  
> Still strove, with his last ounce of courage,  
> To reach … the unreachable star …

Deadly insipid and cloying and I know that its attitude is not survival-oriented, but it still gets me right there because that’s how I was raised, though I, like Sassoon, Graves, and Jarrell, would probably change my tune shortly after the balloon went up.

---

<div class="post-metadata">

**Author:** ![Captain\_Amazing](https://avatars.discourse-cdn.com/v4/letter/c/6de8d8/32.png) [@Captain\_Amazing](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/Captain_Amazing)\
**Post date:** [June 23, 2014, 4:16am UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/absolutely-badass-old-poems/691382/38 "2014-06-23T04:16:03Z")

</div>

Chesterton’s “Ballad of The White Horse” has some good lines:

> [@](#):
>
> "Follow the star that lives and leaps,  
> Follow the sword that sings,  
> For we go gathering heathen men,  
> A terrible harvest, ten by ten,  
> As the wrath of the last red autumn–then  
> When Christ reaps down the kings.
> 
> “Follow a light that leaps and spins,  
> Follow the fire unfurled!  
> For riseth up against realm and rod,  
> A thing forgotten, a thing downtrod,  
> The last lost giant, even God,  
> Is risen against the world.”

---

<div class="post-metadata">

**Author:** ![Oedipus](https://avatars.discourse-cdn.com/v4/letter/o/8e7dd6/32.png) [@Oedipus](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/Oedipus)\
**Post date:** [June 23, 2014, 6:03am UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/absolutely-badass-old-poems/691382/39 "2014-06-23T06:03:06Z")

</div>

> [@Sitnam](#):
>
> The OP might have the best one though, I still remember lines from it when we read it first in Junior high.
> 
> And the might of the Gentile, unsmooth by the sword,  
> Hath melted like snow at the glance of The Lord.
> 
> I was never religious, but that was some Old Testament badassery.

YES. I am looking for Old Testament badassery. Wrath and might of the lord, swords cutting like hot knifes through butter with the Angel of Death overlooking…all of it hahaha

And…not looking to derail this but full disclosure, I’m actually looking to get a tattoo…but instead of “oh my god flower and life and butterflies” I really just want to get something seriously badass ala the OP which is a tattoo Pam Poovey from Archer has on her whole back.

---

<div class="post-metadata">

**Author:** ![The\_Second\_Stone](https://avatars.discourse-cdn.com/v4/letter/t/bbe5ce/32.png) [@The\_Second\_Stone](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/The_Second_Stone)\
**Post date:** [June 23, 2014, 6:59am UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/absolutely-badass-old-poems/691382/40 "2014-06-23T06:59:45Z")

</div>

Even the long quotes here are fragments of longer works.

> [@](#):
>
> The Tyger  
> By William Blake
> 
> Tyger Tyger, burning bright,  
> In the forests of the night;  
> What immortal hand or eye,  
> Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

> [@](#):
>
> The Odyssey
> 
> By Homer
> 
> Written 800 B.C.E
> 
> Translated by Samuel Butler
> 
> Book I
> 
> Tell me, O muse, of that ingenious hero who travelled far and wide after he had sacked the famous town of Troy. Many cities did he visit, and many were the nations with whose manners and customs he was acquainted; moreover he suffered much by sea while trying to save his own life and bring his men safely home; but do what he might he could not save his men, for they perished through their own sheer folly in eating the cattle of the Sun-god Hyperion; so the god prevented them from ever reaching home. Tell me, too, about all these things, O daughter of Jove, from whatsoever source you may know them.

> [@](#):
>
> The Dream of the Rood  
> Translation by Richard Hamer (1970)
> 
> 1  
> Hear while I tell about the best of dreams  
> Which came to me the middle of one night  
> While humankind were sleeping in their beds.  
> It was as though I saw a wondrous tree  
> 5  
> Towering in the sky suffused with light,  
> Brightest of beams; and all that beacon was  
> Covered with gold. The corners of the earth  
> Gleamed with fair jewels, just as there were five  
> Upon the cross-beam. Many bands of angels,

> [@](#):
>
> SONNET 130  
> My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun;  
> Coral is far more red than her lips’ red;  
> If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;  
> If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.  
> I have seen roses damask’d, red and white,  
> But no such roses see I in her cheeks;  
> And in some perfumes is there more delight  
> Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.  
> I love to hear her speak, yet well I know  
> That music hath a far more pleasing sound;  
> I grant I never saw a goddess go;  
> My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground:  
> And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare  
> As any she belied with false compare.

> [@](#):
>
> “Mr. Tambourine Man”
> 
> Hey ! Mr Tambourine Man, play a song for me  
> I’m not sleepy and there is no place I’m going to  
> Hey ! Mr Tambourine Man, play a song for me  
> In the jingle jangle morning I’ll come followin’ you.  
> Though I know that evenin’s empire has returned into sand  
> Vanished from my hand  
> Left me blindly here to stand but still not sleeping  
> My weariness amazes me, I’m branded on my feet  
> I have no one to meet  
> And the ancient empty street’s too dead for dreaming.

> [@](#):
>
> “Now it befell on summer night,  
> upon a lawn where lingering light  
> yet lay and faded faint and grey,  
> that Luthien danced while he did play  
> …
> 
> and this the moon now looked upon,  
> uprisen slow, and round, and white,  
> above the branches of the night.  
> Then clearly thrilled her voice and rang;  
> with sudden ecstasy she sang  
> a song of nightingales she learned  
> and with her elvish magic turned  
> to such bewildering delight  
> the moon hung moveless in the night.  
> And this it was that Beren heard,  
> and this he saw, without a word,  
> enchanted dumb, yet filled with fire  
> of such wonder and desire  
> that all his mortal mind was dim;  
> her magic bound and fettered him,  
> and faint he leaned against a tree.  
> Forwandered, wayworn, gaunt was he,  
> his body sick and heart grown cold,  
> grey in his hair, his youth turned old;  
> for those that tread that lonely way  
> a price of woe and anguish pay.  
> And now his heart was healed and slain  
> with a new life and with new pain.”  
> ― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Lays of Beleriand  
> the-lay-of-lethian

> [@](#):
>
> The Lays Of Beleriand: The lay of Leithian: XII
> 
> In that vast shadow once of yore  
> Fingolfin stood: his shield he bore  
> with field of heaven’s blue and star  
> of crystal shining pale afar.  
> In overmastering wrath and hate  
> desperate he smote upon that gate,  
> the Gnomish king, there standing lone,  
> while endless fortresses of stone  
> engulfed the thin clear ringing keen  
> of silver horn on baldric green.  
> His hopeless challenge dauntless cried  
> Fingolfin there: ‘Come, open wide,  
> dark king, you ghatsly brazen doors!  
> Come forth, whom earth and heaven abhors!  
> Come forth, O monstruous craven lord,  
> and fight with thine own hand and sword,  
> thou wielder of hosts of banded thralls,  
> thou tyrant leaguered with strong walls,  
> thou foe of Gods and elvish race!  
> I wait thee here. Come! Show thy face!’
> 
> Then Morgoth came. For the last time  
> in those great wars he dared to climb  
> from subterranean throne profound,  
> the rumour of his feet a sound  
> of rumbling earthquake underground.  
> Black-armoured, towering, iron-crowned  
> he issued forth; his mighty shield  
> a vast unblazoned sable field  
> with shadow like a thundercloud;  
> and o’er the gleaming king it bowed,  
> as huge aloft like mace he hurled  
> that hammer of the underworld,  
> Grond. Clanging to ground it tumbled  
> down like a thunder-bolt, and crumbled  
> the rocks beneath it; smoke up-started,  
> a pit yawned, and a fire darted.
> 
> Fingolfin like a shooting light  
> beneath a cloud, a stab of white,  
> sprang then aside, and Ringil drew  
> like ice that gleameth cold and blue,  
> his sword devised of elvish skill  
> to pierce the flesh with deadly chill.  
> With seven wounds it rent his foe,  
> and seven mighty cries of woe  
> rang in the mountains, and the earth quook,  
> and Angband’s trembling armies shook.

> [@](#):
>
> Howl  
> By Allen Ginsberg
> 
> For Carl Solomon  
> I
> 
> I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked,  
> dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix,  
> angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night,

[Previous page](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/absolutely-badass-old-poems/691382.md?page=1)

[Next page](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/absolutely-badass-old-poems/691382.md?page=3)