Peace poems
/ page 201 of 319 /How Florence Rings Her Bells
© Alfred Austin
With shimmer of steel and blare of brass,
And Switzers marching with martial stride,
And cavaliers trampling brown the grass,
Came bow-legged Charles through the Apennine pass,
With black Il Moro for traitor guide;
The Presentiment
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
OVER her face, so tender and meek,
The light of a prophecy lies,
That has silvered the red of the rose on her cheek,
And chastened the thought in her eyes!
Ode To The Austrian Socialists
© Stephen Vincent Benet
Let us remember Karl Marx Hof, Goethe Hof,
The one called Matteoti and all the rest.
They were little cities built by people for people.
They were shelled by six-inch guns.
It is strange to go
The Friends Burial
© John Greenleaf Whittier
My thoughts are all in yonder town,
Where, wept by many tears,
To-day my mother's friend lays down
The burden of her years.
A Discontented Sugar Broker
© William Schwenck Gilbert
A gentleman of City fame
Now claims your kind attention;
Farewell to London
© Alexander Pope
Dear, damn'd distracting town, farewell!
Thy fools no more I'll tease:
This year in peace, ye critics, dwell,
Ye harlots, sleep at ease!
In The Day Of Battle
© Bliss William Carman
IN the day of battle,
In the night of dread,
Let one hymn be lifted,
Let one prayer be said.
Per mels cobrir lo mal pes (Anne)
© Bernard de Ventadorn
Per melhs cobrir lo mal pes e.l cossire
chan e deport et ai joi e solatz;
e fatz esfortz car sai chantar ni rire,
car eu me mor e nul semblan no.n fatz;
e per Amor sui si apoderatz,
tot m'a vencut a forsa e batalha.
Requiescat
© Oscar Wilde
TREAD lightly, she is near
Under the snow,
Speak gently, she can hear
The daisies grow.
Pharsalia - Book VI: The Fight Near Dyrhachium. Scaeva's Exploits. The Witch Of Thessalia.
© Marcus Annaeus Lucanus
Now that the chiefs with minds intent on fight
Had drawn their armies near upon the hills
Safe Conduct
© Edgar Albert Guest
There isn't any danger in the kindly things you say,
There isn't any sorrow in the fine and manly deed,
No deep regret awaits you at the ending of the day,
There's always joy in knowing that you've played the friend in need.
The Choice
© Emma Lazarus
I saw in dream the spirits unbegot,
Veiled, floating phantoms, lost in twilight space;
From an Outpost
© Leslie Coulson
I've tramped South England up and down
Down Dorset way, down Devon way,
Ode VII: To The Right Reverend Benjamin Lord Bishop Of Winchester
© Mark Akenside
I. 1.
For toils which patriots have endur'd,
The Last Caesar
© Thomas Bailey Aldrich
In the Elysée, and had lost the day
But that around him flocked his birds of prey,
Sharp-beaked, voracious, hungry for the deed.
'Twixt hope and fear beheld great Cæsar hang!
Meanwhile, methinks, a ghostly laughter rang
Through the rotunda of the Invalides.
Written in London. September, 1802
© William Wordsworth
O Friend! I know not which way I must look
For comfort, being, as I am, opprest,
Hero And Leander. The Fifth Sestiad
© George Chapman
Now was bright Hero weary of the day,
Thought an Olympiad in Leander's stay.
The Cathedral tombs
© Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
THEY lie, with upraised hands, and feet
Stretched like dead feet that walk no more,
And stony masks oft human sweet,
As if the olden look each wore,
Familiar curves of lip and eye,
Were wrought by some fond memory.
Sirmione
© Robert Laurence Binyon
Give me your hand, Beloved! I cannot see;
So close from shadowy--branching tree to tree
Dark leaves hang over us. How vast and still
Night sleeps! and yet a murmur, a low thrill,