Peace poems
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The Death Of President Lincoln
© Joseph Furphy
Now let the howling tempest roar
For Booth can feel its force no more;
Now let the captors bend their steel
Against the form that cannot feel
Their tyranny has spent its hour
And Booth is far beyond their power.
In Memory Of Douglas Vernon Cow
© Muriel Stuart
To twilight heads comes Death as comes a friend.
As with the gentle fading of the year
Fades rose, folds leaf, falls fruit, and to their end
Unquestioning draw near,
Their flowering over, and their fruiting done,
Fulfilled and finished and going down with the sun.
Version Of A Fragment Of Simonides
© William Cullen Bryant
The night winds howled--the billows dashed
Against the tossing chest;
And Danae to her broken heart
Her slumbering infant pressed.
The Dance Of The Seven Sins
© Arthur Symons
THE STAGE-MANAGER
It is. Each morning that decays
To midnight ends the world as well,
For the world's day, as that farewell
When, at the ultimate judgment-Stroke,
Heaven too shall vanish in pale smoke.
Vision Of Columbus - Book 9
© Joel Barlow
Now, round the yielding canopy of shade,
Again the Guide his heavenly power display'd.
Mother Hubbard
© William Henry Ogilvie
The south wind was whispering low in the firs,
A pale sun was gilding the curve of the hill
Discredited
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
Three million women without mates
In lonely homes on earth!
And Cupid sighs at heaven's gates,
Where many a spirit ego waits
Its call again to birth.
The Spagnoletto. Act I
© Emma Lazarus
SCENE--During the first four acts, in Naples; latter part of the
fifth act, in Palermo. Time, about 1655.
The Island In The South
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
THE ship went down at noonday in a cam,
When not a zephyr broke the crystal sea.
We two escaped alone: we reached an isle
Whereon the water settled languidly
The Purgatory Of St. Patrick - Act II
© Denis Florence MacCarthy
PHILIP [aside]. If to find my death I come,
Why precipitate my doom?
But so patient who could be
As to not desire to see
What impends, how dark its gloom?
James Russell Lowell
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
THOU shouldst have sung the swan-song for the choir
That filled our groves with music till the day
Lit the last hilltop with its reddening fire,
And evening listened for thy lingering lay.
Ode VI: Hymn To Cheerfulness
© Mark Akenside
Friend to the Muse and all her train,
For thee i court the Muse again:
The Muse for thee may well exert
Her pomp, her charms, her fondest art,
Who owes to thee that pleasing sway
Which earth and peopled heaven obey.
The Aeneid of Virgil: Book 7
© Publius Vergilius Maro
AND thou, O matron of immortal fame,
Here dying, to the shore hast left thy name;
Peace
© Sir Henry Newbolt
No more to watch by Night's eternal shore,
With England's chivalry at dawn to ride;
No more defeat, faith, victory---O! no more
A cause on earth for which we might have died.
Florence
© Alfred Austin
City acclaimed from far-off days
Fair, and baptized in field of flowers,
Once more I scan, with eager gaze,
Your soaring domes, your storied towers.
