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The Greatest Battle That ever Was Fought

The greatest battle that ever was fought-
Shall I tell you where and when?
On the maps of the world you will find it not.;
It was fought by the Mothers of Men,
Not with cannon orbattle shot,
With sword or nobler pen,;
Not with eloquent word or thought,
From the wonderful minds of men;
But deep in the walled up womans heart,;
A woman that would not yeild;
But bravely and patiently bore her part;
Lo!There is that battlefield,
No marshalling troops,no bivouac,
No banner to gleam and to wave,;
But oh these battles they last so long,
From babyhood to the grave!
But faithful still as a bridge of stars,
She fights in her walled up town,
Fights on and on in the endless wars,
Then silent unseen goes down!
Ho!Yee with banners and battle shot,
With soldiers to shout and praise,
I tell you the kingliest victories fought,
Are fought in these silent ways.
Joaquin Miller

In 1897 Miller travels to the Klondike gold fields as a reporter for the Hearst newspapers. On December 17, he writes: "I am gloomily accepting the fact that I must remain here and go out on an early boat in June or July. The days here have now dwindled to a dim little ray of light. The sun is sulking away yonder somewhere....We have not seen his cheery face for days and days and do not hope to see it for weeks to come. But the moon...we see her all the vast night long and nearly all the narrow strip of day....Oh! but to sit on my little doorstep in the warm night weather, above San Francisco Bay, and see the twin-horned lamp of a new-born baby moon light up the Golden Gate and then go timidly and restfully to bed, in the warm, wide billow! Let me but live to see this again and I will not go far away...."

Maid of Athens Ere We Part
Maid of Athens,Ere we part,
Give ,oh give me back my heart!
Or since that has left my breast,
Keep it now and save the rest,!
Here my vow before I go,
By those treases unconfined,
Woo'd by each Aegen wind,
By those lids whose jetty fringe,
Kiss thy soft checks"blooming tinge:
By those wild eyes,like the row,
By the lip,I long to taste:
Byt the zone encircled waist:
By all the token flowers that tell,
What words can never speak so well,:
By loves alternate joy and woe,
Maid of Athens!I am gone:
Think of me sweet!When Alone.
Though I fly to Istambol,
thens holds my heart and soul;
Can I sease to love thee?NO!
Lord Byron