Francis William Lauderdale Adams

(27 September 1862 – 4 September 1893)

Francis William Lauderdale Adams Poems

1. William Wallace 4/20/2010
2. Why He Loves Her 4/20/2010
3. Toil 4/20/2010
4. To The Sons Of Labour 4/20/2010
5. To The Girls Of The Unions 4/20/2010
6. To The Emperor William I 4/20/2010
7. To The Christians 4/20/2010
8. To Sydney Jephcott 4/20/2010
9. To Queen Victoria In England 4/20/2010
10. To Karl Marx 4/20/2010
11. To John Ruskin 4/20/2010
12. To Japan 4/20/2010
13. To India 4/20/2010
14. To His Love 4/20/2010
15. To England 4/20/2010
16. To Charles Parnell 4/20/2010
17. To An Old Friend In England 4/20/2010
18. To An Artist 4/20/2010
19. To A. L. Gordon 1/4/2003
20. The Truth 4/20/2010
21. The Peasants' Revolt 4/20/2010
22. The Outcasts 4/20/2010
23. The New Locksley Hall 4/20/2010
24. The Mass Of Christ 4/20/2010
25. The Fisherman 4/20/2010
26. The Caged Eagle 4/20/2010
27. The Australian Flag 4/20/2010
28. The Answer 4/20/2010
29. Song Of The Dispossessed 4/20/2010
30. Something 1/4/2003
31. Proem 4/20/2010
32. Prayer 4/20/2010
33. Post-Mortem 4/20/2010
34. Père-La-Chaise 4/20/2010
35. Parallels For The Pious 4/20/2010
36. One Among So Many 4/20/2010
37. New Guinea 4/20/2010
38. Move On! 4/20/2010
39. Love And Death 1/4/2003
40. Lord Leitrim 4/20/2010
Best Poem of Francis William Lauderdale Adams

Art

'YES, let Art go, if it must be
That with it men must starve —
If Music, Painting, Poetry
Spring from the wasted hearth!'
Yes, let Art go, till once again
Through fearless heads and hands
The toil of millions and the pain
Be passed from out the lands:
Till from the few their plunder falls
To those who've toiled and earned
But misery's hopeless intervals
From those who've robbed and spurned.
Yes, let Art go, without a fear,
Like Autumn flowers we burn,
For, with her reawakening year,
Be sure she will return! —
Return, but greater, nobler ...

Read the full of Art

Love And Death

Death? is it death you give? So be it! O Death,
   thou hast been long my friend, and now thy pale
cool cheek shall have my kiss, while the faint breath
expires on thy still lips, O lovely Death!

Come then, loose hands, fair Life, without a wail!
   We've had good hours together, and you were sweet
what time love whispered with the nightingale,
tho' ever your music by the lark's would fail.

[Hata Bildir]