Courage poems
/ page 27 of 77 /The Last Banquet Of Antony And Cleopatra
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
Thy foes had girt thee with their dead array,
O stately Alexandra! - yet the sound
The Blind Man Of Jericho
© Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
He sat by the dusty way-side,
With weary, hopeless mien,
On his furrowed brow the traces
Of care and want were seen;
With outstretched hand and with bowed-down head
He asked the passers-by for bread.
Childe Harold's Pilgrimage: A Romaunt. Canto IV.
© George Gordon Byron
I.
I stood in Venice, on the Bridge of Sighs;
Jerusalem Delivered - Book 06 - part 05
© Torquato Tasso
LVII
He honored her, served her, and leave her gave,
Hymn
© Charles Kingsley
Accept this building, gracious Lord,
No temple though it be;
We raised it for our suffering kin,
And so, Good Lord, for Thee.
The Southern Mother's Charge
© Anonymous
You go, my son, to the battle-field
To repel the invading foe;
'Mid its fiercest conflicts never yield
Till death shall lay you low.
Adversaries
© Robert Laurence Binyon
Who are these that meet
At random in the street?
Adversaries! Yet they
Make no sign nor stay.
The Haunch Of Venison
© Oliver Goldsmith
A POETICAL EPISTLE TO LORD CLARE
THANKS, my Lord, for your venison, for finer or fatter
Beautifying The Flag
© Edgar Albert Guest
To us the Flag has little meant.
Each glorious stripe of red
Dans le jardin
© Victor Marie Hugo
Jeanne et Georges sont là. Le noir ciel orageux
Devient rose, et répand l'aurore sur leurs jeux ;
Ô beaux jours ! Le printemps auprès de moi s'empresse ;
Tout verdit ; la forêt est une enchanteresse ;
The Death-Raven (From The Danish Of Oehlenslaeger)
© George Borrow
"The wealthy bird came towering,
Came scowering,
O'er hill and stream.
'Look here, look here, thou needy bird,
How gay my feathers gleam.'
An Ode - In Imitation of Horace, Book III. Ode II.
© Matthew Prior
How long, deluded Albion, wilt thou lie
In the lethargic sleep, the sad repose
An Old Lament Renewed
© Vernon Scannell
The soil is savoury with their bones' lost marrow;
Down among dark roots their polished knuckles lie,
And no one could tell one peeled head from another;
Earth packs each crater that once gleamed with eye.
Laodamia
© William Wordsworth
O terror! what hath she perceived?-O joy!
What doth she look on?-whom doth she behold?
Her Hero slain upon the beach of Troy?
His vital presence? his corporeal mould?
It is-if sense deceive her not-'tis He!
And a God leads him, wingèd Mercury!
Alfred. Book II.
© Henry James Pye
He ceasedbut still the accents of his tongue
Persuasive, on the attentive hearers hung:
The monarch and his warlike thanes around
Still listening sat, in silent wonder bound.
An Horation Ode Upon Cromwell's Return From Ireland
© Andrew Marvell
The forward Youth that would appear
Must now forsake his Muses dear,
Nor in the Shadows sing
His Numbers languishing.
England
© William Wilfred Campbell
ENGLAND, England, England,
Girdled by ocean and skies,
And the power of a world, and the heart of a race,
And a hope that never dies.
Esther, A Sonnet Sequence: XXVIII
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
The summer I had passed in my own fashion
High in the Alps, a proselyte to toil.
I was released and free, and spent my passion
On the bare rocks as on a fruitful soil.
The Four Seasons : Spring
© James Thomson
Come, gentle Spring! ethereal Mildness! come,
And from the bosom of yon dropping cloud,
While music wakes around, veil'd in a shower
Of shadowing roses, on our plains descend.