Peace poems
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The Progress of Taste, or the Fate of Delicacy
© William Shenstone
A POEM ON THE TEMPER AND STUDIES OF THE AUTHOR; AND HOW GREAT A MISFORTUNE IT IS FOR A MAN OF SMALL ESTATE TO HAVE MUCH TASTE.
Part first.
17. Paraphrase of the First Psalm
© Robert Burns
THE MAN, in life wherever placd,
Hath happiness in store,
Who walks not in the wickeds way,
Nor learns their guilty lore!
Jezreel
© Thomas Hardy
Did they catch as it were in a Vision at shut of the day-
When their cavalry smote through the ancient Esdraelon Plain,
And they crossed where the Tishbite stood forth in his enemy's way-
His gaunt mournful Shade as he bade the King haste off amain?
80. The Jolly Beggars: A Cantata
© Robert Burns
AirTuneSoldiers Joy.I am a son of Mars who have been in many wars,
And show my cuts and scars wherever I come;
This here was for a wench, and that other in a trench,
When welcoming the French at the sound of the drum.
Lal de daudle, &c.
490. SongThe charming month of May
© Robert Burns
Chorus.Lovely was she by the dawn,
Youthful Chloe, charming Chloe,
Tripping oer the pearly lawn,
The youthful, charming Chloe.
Fifty Years (1863-1913)
© James Weldon Johnson
O brothers mine, to-day we stand
Where half a century sweeps our ken,
Since God, through Lincoln's ready hand,
Struck off our bonds and made us men.
540. Inscription to Chloris
© Robert Burns
TIS Friendships pledge, my young, fair Friend,
Nor thou the gift refuse,
Nor with unwilling ear attend
The moralising Muse.
Runnamede, A Tragedy. Acts I.-II.
© John Logan
Yet lost to fame is virtue's orient reign;
The patriot lived, the hero died in vain,
Dark night descended o'er the human day,
And wiped the glory of the world away:
Whirled round the gulf, the acts of time were tost,
Then in the vast abyss for ever lost.
133. The Brigs of Ayr
© Robert Burns
THE SIMPLE Bard, rough at the rustic plough,
Learning his tuneful trade from evry bough;
The chanting linnet, or the mellow thrush,
Hailing the setting sun, sweet, in the green thorn bush;
34. Remorse: A Fragment
© Robert Burns
OF all the numerous ills that hurt our peace,
That press the soul, or wring the mind with anguish
Beyond comparison the worst are those
By our own folly, or our guilt brought on:
68. The Holy Fair
© Robert Burns
UPON 1 a simmer Sunday morn
When Natures face is fair,
I walked forth to view the corn,
An snuff the caller air.
On Australian Hills
© Ada Cambridge
Oh, to be there to-night!
To see that rose of sunset flame and fade
On ghostly mountain height,
The soft dusk gathering each leaf and blade
From the departing light,
Each tree-fern feather of the wildwood glade.
112. A Dream
© Robert Burns
Note 1. The American colonies had recently been lost. [back]
Note 2. King Henry V.R. B. [back]
Note 3. Sir John Falstaff, vid. Shakespeare.R. B. [back]
Note 4. Alluding to the newspaper account of a certain Royal sailors amour.R. B. This was Prince William Henry, third son of George III, afterward King William IV. [back]
304. SongI Murder hate
© Robert Burns
I MURDER hate by flood or field,
Tho glorys name may screen us;
In wars at home Ill spend my blood
Life-giving wars of Venus.
130. Natures Law: A Poem
© Robert Burns
LET other heroes boast their scars,
The marks of sturt and strife:
And other poets sing of wars,
The plagues of human life:
Ae Fond Kiss, And Then We Sever
© Robert Burns
Ae fond kiss, and then we sever;
Ae fareweel, and then for ever!
Deep in heart-wrung tears I'll pledge thee,
Warring sighs and groans I'll wage thee.
The Art Of War. Book VI.
© Henry James Pye
If chiefs like these in combat vers'd have found
Their honors fade as fortune sudden frown'd,
If they have fall'n from fortune's giddy height,
What can ye hope yet novices in fight?
Scarce wean'd by fierce Bellona's fostering arms,
Young in the field, and new to War's alarms.
314. SongTherell never be Peace till Jamie comes hame
© Robert Burns
BY yon Castle wa, at the close of the day,
I heard a man sing, tho his head it was grey:
And as he was singing, the tears doon came,
Therell never be peace till Jamie comes hame.
Song Of A Dream
© Sarojini Naidu
ONCE in the dream of a night I stood
Lone in the light of a magical wood,
Soul-deep in visions that poppy-like sprang;
And spirits of Truth were the birds that sang,
