Peace poems
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A Christmas Fancy
© Robert Fuller Murray
Early on Christmas Day,
Love, as awake I lay,
And heard the Christmas bells ring sweet and clearly,
My heart stole through the gloom
Into your silent room,
And whispered to your heart, `I love you dearly.'
Euphelia
© Helen Maria Williams
As roam'd a pilgrim o'er the mountain drear,
On whose lone verge the foaming billows roar,
The wail of hopeless sorrow pierc'd his ear,
And swell'd at distance on the sounding shore.
Palm Sunday: Naples
© Arthur Symons
Because it is the day of Palms,
Carry a palm for me,
Carry a palm in Santa Chiara,
And I will watch the sea;
There are no palms in Santa Chiara
To-day or any day for me,
To A Young Lady, With A Poem On The French Revolution
© Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Much on my early youth I love to dwell,
Ere yet I bade that friendly dome farewell,
Where first, beneath the echoing cloisters, pale,
I heard of guilt and wondered at the tale!
The Ebb Of War
© Robert Laurence Binyon
In the seven--times taken and re--taken town
Peace! The mind stops; sense argues against sense.
The August sun is ghostly in the street
As if the Silence of a thousand years
Sugar Weather
© Peter McArthur
WHEN snow-balls on the horses' hoofs
And the wind from the south blows warm,
To Mr. Addison on His Tragedy of Cato
© Thomas Tickell
Too long hath love engross'd Britannia's stage,
And sunk to softness all our tragic rage:
When The Great Gray Ships Come In
© Guy Wetmore Carryl
To eastward ringing, to westward winging, o'er mapless miles of sea,
On winds and tides the gospel rides that the furthermost isles are free;
The Toll-Mans Daughter
© Madison Julius Cawein
Once more the June with her great moon
Poured harvest o'er the golden fields;
The Lady of the Lake: Canto VI. - The Guardroom
© Sir Walter Scott
Our vicar still preaches that Peter and Poule
Laid a swinging long curse on the bonny brown bowl,
That there 's wrath and despair in the jolly black-jack,
And the seven deadly sins in a flagon of sack;
Yet whoop, Barnaby! off with thy liquor,
Drink upsees out, and a fig for the vicar!
The Song Of Israfel
© Marian Osborne
['And the angel Israfel, whose heart-strings are a lute, and who has the sweetest voice of all God's creatures.'Koran.]
FAIR Israfel, the sweetest singer of Heaven,
One Day And Another: A Lyrical Eclogue Part III
© Madison Julius Cawein
I seem to see her still; to see
That dim blue room. Her perfume comes
From lavender folds draped dreamily--
One blossom of brocaded blooms--
Some stuff of orient looms.
April
© Archibald Lampman
Pale season, watcher in unvexed suspense,
Still priestess of the patient middle day,
Insolent Storm Strikes At The Skull
© Sylvia Plath
Insolent storm strikes at the skull,
assaults the sleeping citadel,
knocking the warden to his knees
in impotence, to sue for peace,
A Story Of Doom: Book VIII.
© Jean Ingelow
Then one ran, crying, while Niloiya wrought,
"The Master cometh!" and she went within
To adorn herself for meeting him. And Shem
Went forth and talked with Japhet in the field,
And said, "Is it well, my brother?" He replied,
"Well! and, I pray you, is it well at home?"
The Sum
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
A little dreaming by the way,
A little toiling day by day;
A little pain, a little strife,
A little joy,--and that is life.
Between the Sunken Sun and the New Moon
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
BETWEEN the sunken sun and the new moon,
I stood in fields through which a rivulet ran
At The Gate Of The Convent
© Alfred Austin
Beside the Convent Gate I stood,
Lingering to take farewell of those
To whom I owed the simple good
Of three days' peace, three nights' repose.
Laus Mortis
© Arthur Symons
I bring to thee, for love, white roses, delicate Death!
White lilies of the valley, dropping gentle tears,
A Manchester Poem
© George MacDonald
'Tis a poor drizzly morning, dark and sad.
The cloud has fallen, and filled with fold on fold
The chimneyed city; and the smoke is caught,
And spreads diluted in the cloud, and sinks,
A black precipitate, on miry streets.
And faces gray glide through the darkened fog.
