Slander.

    He does the devil's basest work, no less,
    Who deals in calumnies - who throws the mire
    On snowy robes whose hem he dare not press
    His foul lips to. The pity of it! Liar,
    Yet half believed by such as deem the good
    Or evil but the outcome of a mood.
    That one who, with the breath lent him by Heaven,
    Speaks words that on some white soul do reflect,
    Is lost to decency, and should be driven
    Outside the pale of honest men's respect.
    O slanderer, hell's imps must say of you:
    "He does the work we are ashamed to do!"

Jean Blewett

Jean Blewett was a Canadian author, journalist, and poet. Born in Scotia, Ontario, she became well-known for her poetry and was awarded the part of lyrical poet at the World’s Fair in Chicago, 1893. Her notable works were often published in literary magazines. Besides poetry, Blewett also wrote stories and worked as a journalist, gaining considerable respect in both fields. She passed away in Chatham, Ontario, in 1934. Her legacy remains a significant part of Canadian literary history.

Jean Blewett

The Barley Fields.

Jean Blewett, Simple Poetry

Her Mission.

Jean Blewett, Simple Poetry

The Secret.

Jean Blewett, Simple Poetry

A Bit O' Shamrock.

Jean Blewett, Simple Poetry

English

Suggested Poems

Explore a curated selection of verses that share themes, styles, and emotional resonance with the poem you've just read.

A Case Of Libel.

        "The greater the truth, the worse the libel."


A certain Sprite, who dwells below,
    ('Twere a libel perhaps to mention where,)
Came up incog. some years ago
    To try for a change the London air.

So well he lookt and drest and talkt,
    And hid his tail and horns so handy,
You'd hardly have known him as he walkt
    From C----e, or any other Dandy.

(His horns, it seems, are made to unscrew;
    So he has but to take them out of the socket,
And--just as some fine husbands do--
    Conveniently clap them into his pocket.)

In short, he lookt extremely natty,
    And even contrived--to his own great wonder--
By dint of sundry scents from Gattie,
    To keep the sulphurous hogo under.

And so my gent...

Thomas Moore

The Idler.

    If but one spark of honest zeal
    Flashes to life within his breast -
    A feeble, flick'ring spark at best;
    If for a moment he doth feel
    A dim desire to throw aside
    The bonds that idleness has wrought,
    To do, to be the man he ought,
    The tyrant thing he calls his pride -

    The curse of all things good on earth -
    Takes on the cruel midwife's role,
    And each high impulse of the soul
    Is strangled in the hour of birth.
    "To dig I am ashamed," quoth he;
    "Mine is the pride of name and race
    That scorns to fill such humble space -
    Life's lowly tasks are not for me."

    Oh, he can flatter with his tongue,
    Can toady to the rich and great,
    Can fawn on those he feels to hate,
    Un...

Jean Blewett

Ephesians 4:32.

"The accuser of the brethren!"
How fitting is the name!
Since the creation of the world
His business is the same;

Bringing false accusations,
Sowing the seeds of strife,
Watching the halting of the saints,
And striking at the life.

If with the aspersed one he should fail,
The asperser's sure to fall;
For, losing Christian charity,
Have we not lost our all?

Ye know not, vain contenders,
What spirit ye are of;
Alas! ye are weak "defenders"
Of "the faith that works by love,"

Which purifies the feelings,
And makes all sweet within,
Tenders the heart before the Lord,
And keeps the spirit clean.

Go and adorn the doctrine
Ye are feigning to approve,
And seek for strength to follow Him
Whose first, best ...

Eliza Paul Kirkbride Gurney

On Censure

Ye wise, instruct me to endure
An evil, which admits no cure;
Or, how this evil can be borne,
Which breeds at once both hate and scorn.
Bare innocence is no support,
When you are tried in Scandal's court.
Stand high in honour, wealth, or wit;
All others, who inferior sit,
Conceive themselves in conscience bound
To join, and drag you to the ground.
Your altitude offends the eyes
Of those who want the power to rise.
The world, a willing stander-by,
Inclines to aid a specious lie:
Alas! they would not do you wrong;
But all appearances are strong.
    Yet whence proceeds this weight we lay
On what detracting people say!
For let mankind discharge their tongues
In venom, till they burst their lungs,
Their utmost malice cannot make
Your head,...

Jonathan Swift

A Friendly Apology For A Certain Justice Of Peace By Way Of Defence Of Hartley Hutcheson, Esq. By James Black-Well, Operator For The Feet

    But he by bawling news about,
    And aptly using brush and clout,
    A justice of the peace became,
    To punish rogues who do the same.

I sing the man of courage tried,
O'errun with ignorance and pride,
Who boldly hunted out disgrace
With canker'd mind, and hideous face;
The first who made (let none deny it)
The libel-vending rogues be quiet.
    The fact was glorious, we must own,
For Hartley was before unknown,
Contemn'd I mean; - for who would chuse
So vile a subject for the Muse?
    'Twas once the noblest of his wishes
To fill his paunch with scraps from dishes,
For which he'd parch before the grate,
Or wind the jack's slow-rising weight,
(Such toils as best his talents fit,)
Or polish shoes, or turn the spit;
But, unexpe...

Jonathan Swift

Envy.

    When Satan sends - to vex the mind of man
    And urge him on to meanness and to wrong -
    His satellites, there is not one that can
    Acquit itself like envy. Not so strong
    As lust, so quick as fear, so big as hate -
    A pigmy thing, the twin of sordid greed -
    Its work all noble things to underrate,
    Decry fair face, fair form, fair thought, fair deed,
    A sneer it has for what is highest, best,
    For love's soft voice, and virtue's robe of white;
    Truth is not true, and pity is not kind,
    A great task done is but a pastime light.
    Tormented and tormenting is the mind
    That grants to envy room to make its nest.

Jean Blewett