Prison Bars

Though Prison Bars my Freedom mars,
and Glittering Bayonets Guard me round,

My Rebel soul Scorns such Control,
and Dwells with Friends on Southern Ground.

My Heart is Light, and Spirits Bright,
and Hope, with Her Enchanting Wand,

Gives Visions Fair: and Free as Air,
I Roam at Will in Dixie's Land.

poem by Anonymous Americas
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Adam Lay Ibounden

Adam lay ibounden,
Bounden in a bond.
Four thousand winter
Thoght he not too long.
And all was for an appil,
And appil that he tok,
As clerkes finden
Wreten in here book.
Ne hadde the appil take ben,
The appil taken ben,
Ne hadde never our lady
A ben hevene quene.

Blessed be the time
That appil take was,
Therefore we moun singen
Deo gracias.

poem by Anonymous Americas
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Cuckoo Song

Sing, cuccu, nu! Sing, cuccu!
Sing, cuccu! Sing, cuccu, nu!
Sumer is icumen in;
Lhud{.e} sing, cuccu!
Groweth sed, and bloweth med,
And springth the wud{.e} nu.
Sing, cuccu!

Aw{.e} bleteth after lomb,
Lhouth after calv{.e} cu;
Bulluc sterteth, buck{.e} verteth;
Muri{.e} sing, cuccu!

Cuccu! cuccu!
Wel sing{.e}s thu, cuccu;
Ne swik thu naver nu.

poem by Anonymous Americas
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The Origin Of Death

In the Day ere Man came,
In the Morning of Life,
They came together
The Father, the Mother,
Debating.

'Forever they shall live,
'Our Children,
'When they are born Men,
'Forever they shall live,'
Said the Father,
Said the Mother.

But the little Bird cried,
Ah, the little Bird cried:
'How shall I nest me -
'How shall I nest me
'In their warm graves
'If men live forever?'

poem by Anonymous Americas
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Eulogy for a veteran

Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there, I do not sleep.

I am a thousand winds that blow
I am the diamond glint of snow

I am the sunlight on ripened grain
I am the gentle autumn rain

When you awaken in the mornings hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
of quiet birds in circled flight
I am the soft stars that shine at night

Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there, I DID NOT DIE

poem by Anonymous Americas
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I Know Moonrise

I know moonrise, I know starrise,
Lay dis body down.
I walk in de moonlight, I walk in de starlight,
To lay dis body down.

I walk in de graveyard, I walk through de graveyard,
To lay dis body down.
I'll lie in de grave and stretch out my arms,
To lay dis body down.

I go to de judgement in de evenin' of de day,
When I lay dis body down;
And my soul and your soul will meed in de day
When I lay dis body down.

poem by Anonymous Americas
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I Sing of a Maiden

I syng of a mayden
That is mak{.e}les;
Kyng of all{.e} kyng{.e}s
To here Son{.e} sche ches.

He cam also stylle
There his moder was
As dew in Aprylle
That fallyt on the gras;

He cam also stylle
To his moderes bowr
As dew in Aprille
That fallyt on the flour;

He cam also stylle
There his moder lay
As dew in Aprille
That fallyt on the spray;

[...] Read more

poem by Anonymous Americas
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I Have a Gentil Cock

I have a gentil cock
croweth me day
he doth me risen early
my matins for to stay

I have a gentil cock
comen he is of great
his comb is of red coral
his tail is of jet

I have a gentil cock
comen he is of kind
his comb is of red sorrel
his tail is of inde

his legs be of azure
so gentil and so small
his spurs are of silver white
into the wortewale

[...] Read more

poem by Anonymous Americas
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Flying Slave

The night is dark, and keen the air,
And the Slave is flying to be free;
His parting word is one short prayer;
O God, but give me Liberty!
Farewell-farewell;
Behind I leave the whips and chains,
Before me spreads sweet Freedom's plains.

One star shines in the heavens above,
That guides him on his lonely way;-
Star of the North-how deep his love
For thee, thou star of Liberty!
Farewell-farewell;
Behind he leaves the whips and chains,
Before him spreads sweet Freedom's plains.

poem by Anonymous Americas
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The Time When I First Fell In Love

The time when first I fell in love,
Which now I must lament;
The year wherein I lost such time
To compass my content.

The day wherein I saw too late
The follies of a lover;
The hour wherein I found such loss
As care cannot recover.

And last, the minute of mishap,
Which makes me thus to plain
The doleful fruits of lover's suits,
Which labour lose in vain:

Doth make me solemnly protest,
As I with pain do prove,
There is no time, year, day, nor hour,
Nor minute, good to love.

poem by Anonymous Americas
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