Remake of Victorian Age Artwork and Relatable Poems by Tony Jacob

The Field of Waterloo

jacobtony2 — 2016-10-11 03:48:55 UTC

By Joseph Mallard William Turner (1818)

Loss And Gain - Poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

When I compare
What I have lost with what I have gained,
What I have missed with what attained,
Little room do I find for pride.

I am aware
How many days have been idly spent;
How like an arrow the good intent
Has fallen short or been turned aside.

But who shall dare
To measure loss and gain in this wise?
Defeat may be victory in disguise;
The lowest ebb is the turn of the tide.

The Ghost of a Flea

jacobtony2 — 2016-10-11 03:49:34 UTC

By William Blake (1819

Black Moon Rising
Copyright © Moose Polk | Year Posted 2005

In the blackest pitch of night it rises when you least expect it
Highly sentient is this thing of darkness and you must respect it
Thriving in the astral plane, Immortal for the gods protect it
Volitile invasion, reads your mind, your thoughts, you can't reject it

Caution is the best defense to use when it is out and prowling
Nowhere you can hide, it senses fear; bloodthirst, you hear it howling
Underneath your bed not even safe, your thoughts betray your cowering
Always on the move, it follows you above your head it's towering

I have found that if you don't refuse the beast it will protect you
If you look it dead in the eye and call its bluff it will respect you
Then you'll be compelled to worship for its will is overpowering
And too late you'll notice piece by piece your soul it's been devouring

What you don't see will make your life cease to be if you ignore it
If you don't heed my advice you will bleed and die for it
Questioning why it is your turn to die there's no answer
Closing your eyes you will see...
Black moon rising!

Nameless and Friendless

jacobtony2 — 2016-10-11 03:50:46 UTC

By Emily Mary Osborn (1857)

The Rights of WomenRelated

Poem Content Details

By Anna Lætitia Barbauld

Yes, injured Woman! rise, assert thy right!

Woman! too long degraded, scorned, opprest;

O born to rule in partial Law's despite,

Resume thy native empire o'er the breast!

Go forth arrayed in panoply divine;

That angel pureness which admits no stain;

Go, bid proud Man his boasted rule resign,

And kiss the golden sceptre of thy reign.

Go, gird thyself with grace; collect thy store

Of bright artillery glancing from afar;

Soft melting tones thy thundering cannon's roar,

Blushes and fears thy magazine of war.

Thy rights are empire: urge no meaner claim,—

Felt, not defined, and if debated, lost;

Like sacred mysteries, which withheld from fame,

Shunning discussion, are revered the most.

Try all that wit and art suggest to bend

Of thy imperial foe the stubborn knee;

Make treacherous Man thy subject, not thy friend;

Thou mayst command, but never canst be free.

Awe the licentious, and restrain the rude;

Soften the sullen, clear the cloudy brow:

Be, more than princes' gifts, thy favours sued;—

She hazards all, who will the least allow.

But hope not, courted idol of mankind,

On this proud eminence secure to stay;

Subduing and subdued, thou soon shalt find

Thy coldness soften, and thy pride give way.

Then, then, abandon each ambitious thought,

Conquest or rule thy heart shall feebly move,

In Nature's school, by her soft maxims taught,

That separate rights are lost in mutual love.

Nocturne: Blue and Silver - Chelsea

jacobtony2 — 2016-10-11 03:52:28 UTC

By James Abbott McNeill Whistler (1871

Natural Harmony
By Birch Swinger

The ocean admires the stars above,
As the waves slowly rock it to sleep.
While the stars gaze at their reflections
In the midnight blue mirror.
The wind passes by without interruption
As it searches for its final resting place.
I like to imagine this harmony at night,
As I lay my head on my pillow.
In a chaotic, lonely world,
This harmony is my only true reassurance
That I too will one day find peace.

The Last of England

jacobtony2 — 2016-10-11 04:24:56 UTC

By Ford Madox Brown (1855)

Aspire to be
By Matthew Rousseau (Feb 28, 2015)

One can build a house,
Or even a thousand more,
But still they're a mouse,
Hide under the kitchen floor,
To see above would drive it mad,
The wonders are divine,
The fear numbs one and they're not sad,
The knowledge makes us blind,

But aspire to be,
Know you're small, but stretch sea to sea,
Claiming land you all can see,
But can you all be?

A question old as time,
strikes the clock and we rewind,
Oh no our fates have fallen,
We were grand, but never mind.

jacobtony2 — 2016-10-11 04:54:33 UTC

The following poems and artwork were not originally together. My group’s project involves the idea that art can create poetry and vice-versa. To elaborate on this idea, I have paired five Victorian age artworks with five different poetries online. It is up to the readers to find the key points in the poem to relate to the art and the significant details in the art to understand the poetry.