Robin Hood (John Keats)

Robin Hood

By John Keats

TO A FRIEND

No! those days are gone away
And their hours are old and gray,
And their minutes buried all
Under the down-trodden pall
Of the leaves of many years:
Many times have winter’s shears,
Frozen North, and chilling East,
Sounded tempests to the feast
Of the forest’s whispering fleeces,
Since men knew nor rent nor leases.

No, the bugle sounds no more,
And the twanging bow no more;
Silent is the ivory shrill
Past the heath and up the hill;
There is no mid-forest laugh,
Where lone Echo gives the half
To some wight, amaz’d to hear
Jesting, deep in forest drear.

On the fairest time of June
You may go, with sun or moon,
Or the seven stars to light you,
Or the polar ray to right you;
But you never may behold
Little John, or Robin bold;
Never one, of all the clan,
Thrumming on an empty can
Some old hunting ditty, while
He doth his green way beguile
To fair hostess Merriment,
Down beside the pasture Trent;
For he left the merry tale
Messenger for spicy ale.

Gone, the merry morris din;
Gone, the song of Gamelyn;
Gone, the tough-belted outlaw
Idling in the “grenè shawe”;
All are gone away and past!
And if Robin should be cast
Sudden from his turfed grave,
And if Marian should have
Once again her forest days,
She would weep, and he would craze:
He would swear, for all his oaks,
Fall’n beneath the dockyard strokes,
Have rotted on the briny seas;
She would weep that her wild bees
Sang not to her—strange! that honey
Can’t be got without hard money!

So it is: yet let us sing,
Honour to the old bow-string!
Honour to the bugle-horn!
Honour to the woods unshorn!
Honour to the Lincoln green!
Honour to the archer keen!
Honour to tight little John,
And the horse he rode upon!
Honour to bold Robin Hood,
Sleeping in the underwood!
Honour to maid Marian,
And to all the Sherwood-clan!
Though their days have hurried by
Let us two a burden try.

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Speech for any socialist party

The good glorious old days where people were equal, equal in rights and equal in money.
The good glorious old days have been buried like our own most frightened secrets.
The good glorious old days had cold winters like nowadays, and sunny Sundays like today.

Yet no, the upper classes have been stepping up their games and taken money on their behalf.

Not only the upper classes in where we are now, but the upper classes in all directions: our people are in danger. The time seems not to be ours anymore, which is utterly unreasonable, the time should be everyone’s,  at any moment, and everywhere, not just the wolfs of Wallstreet’s time

Even in the times where the brightest of lights is, we don’t get what we deserve, we don’t get what we need. As I said before, this is not just for you, but for every human kind that has the right to live a good life. With all modern technology, why don’t we finally start to think normal/modern and give people equality. We get to see all beautiful things in life that we can afford, though we never get to see a Robin Hood nowadays, even when it’s urgent.. Never will we be able to see Robin Hood, or any of his comrades again. Never and nowhere: not in this country, not in this continent and not on this globe. Not a bloody chance!

Gone, all good glorious old days are gone, where we (workers) had our rights and money.
Gone, all things people like Karl Marx, Saint-Simon and Friedrich Engels fought for: equality.
Gone, like the fighting spirit we used to have, the spirit to succeed in what we want to achieve.

Robin Hood should be brought back to life again, so the oppressors and capitalists would be stunned and held back. We should not cry and watch the situation getting worse and worse. We should stand up for what we stood up for, even though it seems like we started to sit down. When Robin Hood isn’t here, you and I can be Robin Hood, you and I can be the change everyone needs. Let us give the people what they really need, let us stand up as humans!

by Abel Pleij

Oh Captain, My captain (Walt Whitman)

Oh Captain, My Captain

By Walt Whitman

 

O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done,
The ship has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won,
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring;
                         But O heart! heart! heart!
                            O the bleeding drops of red,
                               Where on the deck my Captain lies,
                                  Fallen cold and dead.

O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle trills,
For you bouquets and ribbon’d wreaths—for you the shores a-crowding,
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
                         Here Captain! dear father!
                            This arm beneath your head!
                               It is some dream that on the deck,
                                 You’ve fallen cold and dead.

My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still,
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will,
The ship is anchor’d safe and sound, its voyage closed and done,
From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won;
                         Exult O shores, and ring O bells!
                            But I with mournful tread,
                               Walk the deck my Captain lies,
                                  Fallen cold and dead.
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After four long and terrible years, the war is now finally over. We, the United States of America, have beaten the civil war and we have preserved the Union. I have seen people waving our flag and I have seen others crying of felicity. Everyone is happy. But a war never ends only with glee, there are always victims. And for all these victims I feel sorrow and I sympathize with all who lost their sons or husbands. But I can’t live with the fact that John Wilkes Booth shot our leader. It tears me apart that our president, Abraham Lincoln, is dead.

So please let it be a dream. I am hoping so much that I will wake up and see him alive again, smiling and waving to his folk. That he is here with us again and that he can see what he has achieved. Because without him people wouldn’t be celebrating their freedom right now. All the laughing you hear and every smile you see are due to him. If there was one person who deserved it the most to be here right now and  to see our country reunited again, it would be him.

But no, I won’t wake up. It isn’t just a dream. It is the horrible truth about our fallen hero. He has fought for so many years, trying to recover the peace. He has lead our country through the darkest days of its history. And now, when his hard work finally pays off, he is gone. While everyone is celebrating the victory, my heart is filling itself with sorrow. Because we, the United states of America, have lost our leader, president Abraham Lincoln.

by Pieter Goossens