Peace poems
/ page 141 of 319 /The Profession. A Sketch
© Alaric Alexander Watts
On Santa Croce's golden-pillared shrine,
A thousand tapers pour their blended rays
Sonnet XCVII: A Superscription
© Dante Gabriel Rossetti
Look in my face; my name is Might-have-been;
I am also called No-more, Too-late, Farewell;
Poland - Italy - Hungary
© Sydney Thompson Dobell
In the great Darkness of the Passion, graves
Were oped, and many Saints which slept arose.
Dorchester Amphitheatre .
© John Kenyon
By Rome's old amphitheatre I stood,
Still pretty perfect, on the Weymouth road,
Sonnet. On Peace
© John Keats
O PEACE! and dost thou with thy presence bless
The dwellings of this war-surrounded Isle;
Circe
© Augusta Davies Webster
Ah me! these love a day and laugh again,
and loving, laughing, find a full content;
but I know nought of peace, and have not loved.
Song of The Coffle Gang
© Anonymous
This song is said to be sung by Slaves, as they are chained in gangs,
when parting from friends for the far off South-children taken from
parents, husbands from wives, and brothers from sisters.
Requiescant
© Frederick George Scott
In lonely watches night by night
Great visions burst upon my sight,
For down the stretches of the sky
The hosts of dead go marching by.
Awakening
© Robert Laurence Binyon
Out of first sleep as they awoke
The moon had stolen upon her face.
It seemed that they had opened eyes
New on another world and place.
The Seas of England
© Walter de la Mare
The seas of England are our old delight:
Let the loud billow of the shingly shore
Sing freedom on her breezes evermore
To all earths ships that sailing heave in sight!
November, 1851
© George MacDonald
Why wilt thou stop and start?
Draw nearer, oh my heart,
And I will question thee most wistfully;
Gather thy last clear resolution
To look upon thy dissolution.
Days End
© Robert Laurence Binyon
When I am weary, thronged with the cares of the vain day
That tease as harsh winds tease the unresting autumn boughs,
I still my mind at evening and put all else away
But the image of my Love, where all my hopes I house.
The Vigil-at-Arms
© Louise Imogen Guiney
Keep holy watch with silence, prayer, and fasting
Till morning break, and all the bugles play;
Unto the One aware from everlasting
Dear are the winners: thou art more than they.