Peace poems
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Pastoral
© Allen Tate
The enquiring fields, courtesies
And tribulations of the air-
Be still and give them peace:
The Storm
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
Fear was within the tossing bark,
When stormy winds grew loud;
And waves came rolling high and dark,
And the tall mast was bowed.
Fanscomb Barn
© Anne Kingsmill Finch
In Fanscomb Barn (who knows not Fanscomb Barn?)
Seated between the sides of rising Hills,
The Autumn Wind
© Caroline Norton
Back to the barren hill and lonely glen!
Here let the wandering of thy echoes cease;
Sadly thou soundest to the hearts of men,--
Hush thy wild voice, and let the earth have peace;
Or, if no chain thy restless will can bind,
Sweep thro' the desert, moaning autumn wind!
On A Cattle Track
© Henry Kendall
Where the strength of dry thunder splits hill-rocks asunder,
And the shouts of the desert-wind break,
Night-Scene in Genoa
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
He pauses - from the partiarch's brow
There beams more lofty grandeur now;
His reverend form, his aged hand,
Assume a gesture of command,
His voice is awful, and his eye
Fill's with prophetic majesty.
The Linnet And The Cat
© Helen Maria Williams
WHEN fading Autumn's latest hours
Strip the brown wood, and chill the flowers,--
A Book Of Strife In The Form Of The Diary Of An Old Soul - October
© George MacDonald
1.
REMEMBER, Lord, thou hast not made me good.
Eclogue:--John An' Thomas
© William Barnes
Well, there, the geärden stuff an' flow'rs
Don't leäve me many idle hours;
But still, though I mid plant or zow,
'Tis Woone above do meäke it grow.
Friendship
© Hartley Coleridge
When we were idlers with the loitering rills,
The need of human love we little noted:
Our love was nature; and the peace that floated
On the white mist, and dwelt upon the hills,
The Song Of Hiawatha XIII: Blessing The Cornfields
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Sing, O Song of Hiawatha,
Of the happy days that followed,
Spring Offensive [unfinished]
© Wilfred Owen
Halted against the shade of a last hill,
They fed, and lying easy, were at ease
And, finding comfortable chests and knees,
Carelessly slept. But many there stood still
To face the stark blank sky beyond the ridge,
Knowing their feet had come to the end of the world.
Lines Written At Norwich On The First News Of Peace
© Amelia Opie
What means that wild and joyful cry?
Why do yon crowds in mean attire
Throw thus their ragged arms on high?
In want what can such joy inspire?
How Long?
© Katharine Lee Bates
How long, O Prince of Peace, how long? We sicken of the shame
Of this wild war that wraps the world, a roaring dragon-flame
Curtius
© Isabella Valancy Crawford
Why, love, how darkly gaze thine eyes in mine!
If loved I dismal thoughts I well could deem
Thou sawest not the blue of my fond eyes,
But looked between the lips of that dread pit,-
O Jove! to name it seems to curse the air
With chills of death! We'll speak not of it, Curtius.
Man
© Henry Vaughan
Weighing the steadfastness and state
Of some mean things which here below reside,
The Wanderer: A Vision: Canto IV
© Richard Savage
Still o'er my mind wild Fancy holds her sway,
Still on strange visionary land I stray.
Now scenes crowd thick! now indistinct appear!
Swift glide the months, and turn the varying year!
