Peace poems
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The Rubaiyat of Omar Cayenne
© Gelett Burgess
WAKE! For the Hack can scatter into flightShakespere and Dante in a single Night! The Penny-a-liner is Abroad, and strikesOur Modern Literature with blithering Blight.
The Bishop Orders his Tomb at Saint Praxed's Church Rome, 15--
© Robert Browning
Vanity, saith the preacher, vanity!Draw round my bed: is Anselm keeping back?Nephews--sons mine
My Garden
© Brown Thomas Edward
A garden is a lovesome thing, God wot! Rose plot, Fringed pool,Ferned grot-- The veriest school Of peace; and yet the foolContends that God is not--Not God! in gardens! when the eve is cool? Nay, but I have a sign; 'Tis very sure God walks in mine
The land I came thro' last was dumb with night
© Christopher John Brennan
The land I came thro' last was dumb with night,a limbo of defeated glory, a ghost:for wreck of constellations flicker'd perishingscarce sustain'd in the mortuary air,and on the ground and out of livid poolswreck of old swords and crowns glimmer'd at whiles;I seem'd at home in some old dream of kingship:now it is clear grey day and the road is plain,I am the wanderer of many yearswho cannot tell if ever he was kingor if ever kingdoms were: I know I amthe wanderer of the ways of all the worlds,to whom the sunshine and the rain are oneand one to stay or hasten, because he knowsno ending of the way, no home, no goal,and phantom night and the grey day alikewithhold the heart where all my dreams and daysmight faint in soft fire and delicious death:and saying this to myself as a simple thingI feel a peace fall in the heart of the windsand a clear dusk settle, somewhere, far in me
I Love Corned Beef
© Bowen A. P.
I LOVE corned beef -- I never knewHow good the stuff COULD taste in stew!I love it WET, I love it DRY,I love it baked and called MEAT PIE
A Vision out West
© Barcroft Henry Thomas Boake
Far reaching down's a solid sea sunk everlastingly to rest,And yet whose billows seem to be for ever heaving toward the westThe tiny fieldmice make their nests, the summer insects buzz and humAmong the hollows and the crests of this wide ocean stricken dumb,Whose rollers move for ever on, though sullenly, with fettered wills,To break in voiceless wrath upon the crumbled bases of far hills,Where rugged outposts meet the shock, stand fast, and hurl them back again,An avalanche of earth and rock, in tumbled fragments on the plain;But, never heeding the rebuff, to right and left they kiss the feetOf hanging cliff and bouldered bluff till on the farther side they meet,And once again resume their march to where the afternoon sun dipsToward the west, and Heaven's arch salutes the Earth with ruddy lips
The Vowels
© Bithell Jethro
Ye vowels, A black, E white, I red, U green, O blue,I will reveal your latent births one of these days
The Minstrel; or, The Progress of Genius
© James Beattie
THE FIRST BOOK (excerpts) The steep where Fame's proud temple shines afar! Ah! who can tell how many a soul sublime Hath felt the influence of malignant star, And wag'd with Fortune an eternal war! Check'd by the scoff of Pride, by Envy's frown, And Poverty's unconquerable bar, In life's low vale remote hath pin'd aloneThen dropt into the grave, unpitied and unknown!
And yet, the languor of inglorious days Not equally oppressive is to all
Written for my Son, and Spoken by Him in School, upon his Master's First Bringing in a Rod
© Mary Barber
OUR master, in a fatal hour,Brought in this Rod, to shew his pow'r
A Thought on Death: November, 1814
© Anna Lætitia Barbauld
When life as opening buds is sweet,And golden hopes the fancy greet,And Youth prepares his joys to meet,--Alas! how hard it is to die!
Dirge: Written November 1808
© Anna Lætitia Barbauld
Pure spirit! O where art thou now! O whisper to my soul!O let some soothing thought of thee, The bitter grief control!
The Caterpillar
© Anna Lætitia Barbauld
No, helpless thing, I cannot harm thee now;Depart in peace, thy little life is safe,For I have scanned thy form with curious eye,Noted the silver line that streaks thy back,The azure and the orange that divideThy velvet sides; thee, houseless wanderer,My garment has enfolded, and my armFelt the light pressure of thy hairy feet;Thou hast curled round my finger; from its tip,Precipitous descent! with stretched out neck,Bending thy head in airy vacancy,This way and that, inquiring, thou hast seemedTo ask protection; now, I cannot kill thee
Stay with Me, God
© Anonymous
Stay with me, God. The night is dark,The night is cold: my little sparkOf courage dies. The night is long;Be with me, God, and make me strong.
The Seafarer
© Anonymous
Mæg ic be me sylfum soðgied wrecan, [I can utter a true tale about myself,]siþas secgan, hu ic geswincdagum [tell of my travels, how in laboursome days]earfoðhwile oft þrowade, [a time of hardship I often suffered,]bitre breostceare gebiden hæbbe, [how bitter sorrow in my breast I have borne,]gecunnad in ceole cearselda fela, [made trial on shipboard of many sorrowful abodes; ]atol yþa gewealc, þær mec oft bigeat [dread was the rolling of the waves; there my task was often]nearo nihtwaco æt nacan stefnan, [the hard night-watch at the boat's prow,]þonne he be clifum cnossað
For Christmas Day: Hark! the Herald Angels Sing
© Whitefield George
Hark! the herald Angels sing,Glory to the new-born King,Peace on earth and mercy mild,God and sinner reconcil'd. Hark! the herald Angels sing, Glory to the new-born King.
White Sand
© Anderson Robert Thompson
Blue waves lap on the long low shore, And the dark clouds cast their quivering shade;The dancing launch leaps lightly before The heaving swell that the wind hath made;And over the rushes bending green, Reaching outward across the strandWe look to the beach so white and clean
An A B C, for Baby Patriots
© Ames Mary Frances Leslie
A is the Army That dies for the Queen;It's the very best Army That ever was seen,
