Life is real, life is earnest, And the shell is not its pen – “Egg thou art, and egg remainest” Was not spoken of the hen.
Art is long and Time is fleeting, Be our bills then sharpened well, And not like muffled drums be beating On the inside of the shell.
In the world’s broad field of battle, In the great barnyard of life, Be not like those lazy cattle! Be a rooster in the strife!
Lives of roosters all remind us, We can make our lives sublime, And when roasted, leave behind us, Hen tracks on the sands of time.
Hen tracks that perhaps another Chicken drooping in the rain, Some forlorn and henpecked brother, When he sees, shall crow again.
OH for one hour of youthful joy! Give back my twentieth spring! I'd rather laugh, a bright-haired boy, Than reign, a gray-beard king.
Off with the spoils of wrinkled age! Away with Learning's crown! Tear out life's Wisdom-written page, And dash its trophies down!
One moment let my life-blood stream From boyhood's fount of flame! Give me one giddy, reeling dream Of life all love and fame!
. . . . .
My listening angel heard the prayer, And, calmly smiling, said, "If I but touch thy silvered hair Thy hasty wish hath sped.
"But is there nothing in thy track, To bid thee fondly stay, While the swift seasons hurry back To find the wished-for day?"
"Ah, truest soul of womankind! Without thee what were life ? One bliss I cannot leave behind: I'll take-- my-- precious-- wife!"
The angel took a sapphire pen And wrote in rainbow dew, The man would be a boy again, And be a husband too!
"And is there nothing yet unsaid, Before the change appears? Remember, all their gifts have fled With those dissolving years."
"Why, yes;" for memory would recall My fond paternal joys; "I could not bear to leave them all-- I'll take-- my-- girl-- and-- boys."
The smiling angel dropped his pen,-- "Why, this will never do; The man would be a boy again, And be a father too!"
. . . . .
And so I laughed,-- my laughter woke The household with its noise,-- And wrote my dream, when morning broke, To please the gray-haired boys.
WHAT flower is this that greets the morn, Its hues from Heaven so freshly born? With burning star and flaming band It kindles all the sunset land: Oh tell us what its name may be,-- Is this the Flower of Liberty?
It is the banner of the free, The starry Flower of Liberty!
In savage Nature's far abode Its tender seed our fathers sowed; The storm-winds rocked its swelling bud, Its opening leaves were streaked with blood, Till lo! earth's tyrants shook to see The full-blown Flower of Liberty!
Then hail the banner of the free, The starry Flower of Liberty!
Behold its streaming rays unite, One mingling flood of braided light,-- The red that fires the Southern rose, With spotless white from Northern snows, And, spangled o'er its azure, see The sister Stars of Liberty!
Then hail the banner of the free, The starry Flower of Liberty!
The blades of heroes fence it round, Where'er it springs is holy ground; From tower and dome its glories spread; It waves where lonely sentries tread; It makes the land as ocean free, And plants an empire on the sea!
Then hail the banner of the free, The starry Flower of Liberty!
Thy sacred leaves, fair Freedom's flower, Shall ever float on dome and tower, To all their heavenly colors true, In blackening frost or crimson dew,-- And God love us as we love thee, Thrice holy Flower of Liberty!
Then hail the banner of the free, The starry FLOWER OF LIBERTY!
Oliver Wendell Holmes was a 19th-century American poet, physician, and essayist, closely associated with the Fireside Poets. His writing often blended humor and sentimentalism with thoughtful meditation on themes like mortality, nature, and national identity. He is best remembered for poems such as 'Old Ironsides,' which stirred public sentiment to preserve the USS Constitution, and 'The Chambered Nautilus,' a metaphorical reflection on spiritual growth. As a skilled conversationalist, he brought a genial, accessible voice to both his verse and his celebrated prose works, including the 'Breakfast-Table' series. Holmes also served as a professor of anatomy at Harvard and was a prominent figure in Boston's literary circles. His poetry, though sometimes conventional in form, was widely read in its day and contributed to a distinctly American literary tradition.
Aprendizaje paso a paso, grabaciones de voz para compartir y recordatorios de repaso.
