21st September 1870
Speak low, speak little; who may sing
While yonder cannon-thunders boom?
Watch, shuddering, what each day may bring:
Nor 'pipe amid the crack of doom.'
And yet-the pines sing overhead,
The robins by the alder-pool,
The bees about the garden-bed,
The children dancing home from school.
And ever at the loom of Birth
The mighty Mother weaves and sings:
She weaves-fresh robes for mangled earth;
She sings-fresh hopes for desperate things.
And thou, too: if through Nature's calm
Some strain of music touch thine ears,
Accept and share that soothing balm,
And sing, though choked with pitying tears.
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (21st September 1870 by Charles Kingsley )
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
William Ernest Henley
- Dispersion of Time, Musfiq us shaleheen
- Honour Killing (For The Arabic People), Bijay Kant Dubey
- You Are In My Way, Susan Lacovara
- I FORGIVE YOU 10 WORD, Beryl Dov
- THE 4 STAGES OF YOUR CHILDREN'S LOVE, Beryl Dov
- SEARCH FOR PASSION 10 WORD, Beryl Dov
- How do i get to the top of the mountain, cristobal Benjumea
- HONESTY 10 WORD, Beryl Dov
- How do i get to the p of the mountain, cristobal Benjumea
- FRIENDS VS. ENEMIES 10 WORD, Beryl Dov