Peace poems
/ page 115 of 319 /Shooter's Hill
© Robert Bloomfield
Health! I seek thee;-dost thou love
The mountain top or quiet vale,
The Reprieve
© Caroline Norton
"Oh! hear me, thou, who in the sunshine's glare
So calmly waitest till the warning bell
Shall of the closing hour of his despair
In gloomy notes of muffled triumph tell.
Phi Beta Kappa Poem
© Bliss William Carman
Harvard, 1914
SIR, friends, and scholars, we are here to serve
A high occasion. Our New England wears
All her unrivalled beauty as of old;
The Powers Of Love
© George Moses Horton
It lifts the poor man from his cell
To fortune's bright alcove;
Its mighty sway few, few can tell,
Mid envious foes it conquers ill;
There's nothing half like love.
Herba Santa
© Herman Melville
III
To scythe, to sceptre, pen and hod--
Yea, sodden laborers dumb;
To brains overplied, to feet that plod,
In solace of the _Truce of God_
The Calumet has come!
In The Manner Of Spenser
© Samuel Taylor Coleridge
O peace, that on a lilied bank dost love
To rest thine head beneath an olive tree,
I would that from the pinions of thy dove
One quill withouten pain yplucked might be!
The Wind O' Death.
© Robert Crawford
Oh! we hae a' to die, dear,
We're a' to gang awa';
We, when Death's wind blows by, dear,
Like apples hae to fa';
St. Martin's Summer
© John Greenleaf Whittier
Though flowers have perished at the touch
Of Frost, the early comer,
I hail the season loved so much,
The good St. Martin's summer.
The Philanthropic Society
© William Lisle Bowles
INSCRIBED TO THE DUKE OF LEEDS.
When Want, with wasted mien and haggard eye,
Litany for Dictatorships
© Stephen Vincent Benet
For all those beaten, for the broken heads,
The fosterless, the simple, the oppressed,
The ghosts in the burning city of our time ...
The Heart Taken
© John Newton
The castle of the human heart
Strong in its native sin;
Is guarded well, in every part,
By him who dwells within.
The Farmer's Boy - Autumn
© Robert Bloomfield
Again, the year's _decline_, midst storms and floods,
The thund'ring chase, the yellow fading woods,
Invite my song; that fain would boldly tell
Of upland coverts, and the echoing dell,
By turns resounding loud, at eve and morn
The swineherd's halloo, or the huntsman's horn.
Trilogy Of Passion 02 Elegy
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
WHAT hope of once more meeting is there now
In the still-closed blossoms of this day?
Both heaven and hell thrown open seest thou;
What wav'ring thoughts within the bosom play
No longer doubt! Descending from the sky,
She lifts thee in her arms to realms on high.
William and Helen
© Sir Walter Scott
I.
From heavy dreams fair Helen rose,
And eyed the dawning red:
"Alas, my love, thou tarriest long!
O art thou false or dead?"-
The Winged Mariners
© Ada Cambridge
Through the wild night, the silence and the dark,
Through league on league of the uncharted sky,
Lonelier than dove of fable from its ark,
The fieldfares fly.
Of Heaven
© John Bunyan
Heaven is a place, also a state,
It doth all things excel,
No man can fully it relate,
Nor of its glory tell.
Metamorphoses: Book The Seventh
© Ovid
The End of the Seventh Book.
Translated into English verse under the direction of
Sir Samuel Garth by John Dryden, Alexander Pope, Joseph Addison,
William Congreve and other eminent hands
In Utroque Fidelis
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
ALONG the woods the whispering night-airs swoon,
A single bird-note dies adown the trees,
Clear, pallid, mournful, droops the summer moon,
Dipped in the foam of cloudland's phantom seas;--
Soundless they heave above
The dim, ancestral home that holds my love.