p.3lordpoem1


 * Freedom :

 Of old sat Freedom on the heights, The thunders breaking at her feet: Above her shook the starry lights: She heard the torrents meet.

There in her place she did rejoice, Self-gather'd in her prophet-mind, But fragments of her mighty voice Came rolling on the wind.

Then stept she down thro' town and field To mingle with the human race, And part by part to men reveal'd The fullness of her face -

Grave mother of majestic works, From her isle-alter gazing down, Who, God-like, grasps the triple forks, And, King-like, wears the crown:

Her open eyes desire the truth. The wisdom of a thousand years Is in them. May perpetual youth Keep dry their light from tears;

That her fair form may stand and shine Make bright our days and light our dreams, Turning to scorn with lips divine The falsehood of extremes! || rhyme - similar sounding word or phrase personification - giving something human traits hyperbole - exaggeration || =Viva la vida: Coldplay= I used to rule the world

Seas would rise when I gave the word

Now in the morning I sleep alone

Sweep the streets I used to own I used to roll the dice

Feel the fear in my enemy's eyes

Listen as the crowd would sing

"Now the old king is dead! Long live the king!" One minute I held the key

Next the walls were closed on me

And I discovered that my castles stand

Upon pillars of salt and pillars of sand I hear Jerusalem bells are ringing

Roman Cavalry choirs are singing

Be my mirror, my sword and shield

My missionaries in a foreign field For some reason I can't explain

Once you go there was never

Never an honest word

And that was when I ruled the world It was the wicked and wild wind

Blew down the doors to let me in

Shattered windows and the sound of drums

People couldn't believe what I'd become Revolutionaries wait

For my head on a silver plate

Just a puppet on a lonely string

Oh, who would ever wanna be king? I hear Jerusalem bells are ringing

Roman Cavalry choirs are singing

Be my mirror, my sword and shield

My missionaries in a foreign field For some reason I can't explain

I know Saint Peter won't call my name

Never an honest word

But that was when I ruled the world Oh oh oh oh oh oh oh I hear Jerusalem bells are ringing

Roman Cavalry choirs are singing

Be my mirror, my sword and shield

My missionaries in a foreign field For some reason I can't explain

I know Saint Peter won't call my name

Never an honest word

But that was when I ruled the world ||