Peace poems
/ page 131 of 319 /
A timid grace sits trembling in her eye
© Charles Lamb
A timid grace sits trembling in her eye,
As loath to meet the rudeness of men's sight,
My Annual
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
How long will this harp which you once loved to hear
Cheat your lips of a smile or your eyes of a tear?
How long stir the echoes it wakened of old,
While its strings were unbroken, untarnished its gold?
Sir Galahad
© Alfred Tennyson
MY good blade carves the casques of men,
My tough lance thrusteth sure,
The Bell-Founder Part III - Vicissitude And Rest
© Denis Florence MacCarthy
O Erin! thou broad-spreading valley--thou well-watered land of fresh
streams,
When I gaze on thy hills greenly sloping, where the light of such
loveliness beams,
Women
© Margaret Widdemer
YOU fret and grieve and turn about
To make this world and living out,
With "This is so" and "That is so"
Ah, sirs, we learned it long ago!
Psalm Of The West
© Sidney Lanier
Master, Master, break this ban:
The wave lacks Thee.
Oh, is it not to widen man
Stretches the sea?
Oh, must the sea-bird's idle van
Alone be free?
The Victories Of Love. Book II
© Coventry Kersey Dighton Patmore
II
From Lady Clitheroe To Mary Churchill
A Hymn On Contentment
© Thomas Parnell
Lovely lasting Peace appear;
This World it self, if thou art here,
Is once again with Eden bless'd,
And Man contains it in his Breast.
The Creek of the Four Graves [Early Version]
© Charles Harpur
And feeling thus by habit, that poor man
Though the black shadow of untimely death
Hopelessly thickened under every stroke,
Upstruggled desperate, until at last,
One, as in mercy, gave him to the dust,
With all his sorrows.
Sappho I
© Sara Teasdale
MIDNIGHT, and in the darkness not a sound,
So, with hushed breathing, sleeps the autumn night;
Only the white immortal stars shall know,
Here in the house with the low-lintelled door,
In Carissimam Memoriam A.S.P.
© Robert Laurence Binyon
To whom but thee, my youth to dedicate,
My youth, which these few leaves have sought to save,
Should I now come, although I come too late,
Alas! and can but lay them on thy grave?
Hymn VII. Messiah! at thy glad approach
© John Logan
Messiah! at thy glad approach
The howling winds are still!
Thy praises fill the lonely waste,
And breathe from every hill.
To Time
© George Gordon Byron
Time! on whose arbitrary wing
The varying hours must flag or fly,
Whose tardy winter, fleeting spring,
But drag or drive us on to die--
Westward
© Robert Laurence Binyon
I found my Love among the fern. She slept.
My shadow stole across her, as I stept
More lightly and slowly, seeing her pillowed so
In the short--turfed and shelving green hollow
After The Curfew
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
THE Play is over. While the light
Yet lingers in the darkening hall,
I come to say a last Good-night
Before the final _Exeunt all_.
In Peace
© John Greenleaf Whittier
A track of moonlight on a quiet lake,
Whose small waves on a silver-sanded shore
The Farmer's Boy - Spring
© Robert Bloomfield
Down, indignation! hence, ideas foul!
Away the shocking image from my soul!
Let kindlier visitants attend my way,
Beneath approaching _Summer's_ fervid ray;
Nor thankless glooms obtrude, nor cares annoy,
Whilst the sweet theme is _universal joy_.
Sea-Shore Memories
© Walt Whitman
Shine! shine! shine!
Pour down your warmth, great Sun!
While we bask-we two together.
