The Modern PoetFor your words and others.
Release 15
Always tinkering.

I use this place too. I keep finding things to add, change, or make a little better.

Latest check: 1,242 passed. Regular checks, ongoing improvements.

This round: quieter reading, book-style chapters, and one HH throughout.

THE MODERN POET

Song of the Battle Eve

By Thomas Moore

(Time -- the Ninth Century) To-morrow, comrade, we On the battle-plain must be, There to conquer, or both lie low! The morning star is up -- But there's wine still in the cup, And we'll take another quaff, ere we go, boy, go; We'll take another quaff, ere we go. 'Tis true, in manliest eyes A passing tear will rise, When we think of the friends we leave lone; But what can wailing do? See, our goblet's weeping too! With its tears we'll chase away our own, boy, our own; With its tears we'll chase away our own. But daylight's stealing on; The last that o'er us shone Saw our children around us play; The next -- ah! where shall we And those rosy urchins be? But -- no matter -- grasp thy sword and away, boy, away; No matter -- grasp thy sword and away! Let those, who brook the chain Of Saxon or of Dane, Ignobly by their fire-sides stay; One sigh to home be given, One heartfelt prayer to heaven, Then, for Erin and her cause, boy, hurra! hurra! hurra! Then, for Erin and her cause, hurra!

Original source ↗

Poetry data from PoetryDB, curated by The Combed Thunderclap · metadata CC BY 4.0 · Public-domain poem text (USA)

Explore The Modern Poet ↗

POETRY. PHILOSOPHY. THE HUMAN EXPERIENCE.

Something to read.
Something to feel.

Your work, and voices from around the world.
Poetry, poetic philosophy, and the people behind it.

Riddle of the day ↗

A little rhyme. Something to turn over. Tomorrow, a possible answer.

Explore public sources. Read the work where it was shared.

A moment with the words.

A note on the rotation

Box one belongs to works shared here—pictures, poems, or both—with a new selection each hour. The other three change one at a time every fifteen minutes. One is a Halloween poem through October. Skip any card, or pause while you read.

THERE’S ROOM FOR YOUR VOICE.

Got something to say?
Leave it here.

A poem. A picture. Both. Sign your name, use a pen name,
or stay anonymous. You don’t owe anyone an explanation.

YOUR WORDS. YOUR WAY.

Leave something here.

Post a poem, a picture, or both. No profile needed.

Picture-only posts are welcome. No nudity or sexual images. Images stay in your private local queue pending review; automated screening is not connected in this preview.

A little bird, optional.

Artwork becomes the small icon; without artwork, your companion takes its place. You can also leave the small icon blank. Preview everything and change your mind before posting. No account needed.

You keep ownership of your work. Posting availability is checked before you submit. Passing work publishes; flagged work waits privately for the owner.