Peace poems
/ page 204 of 319 /For Valour
© John Le Gay Brereton
Hail to you, comrades, who have won,
Where the torn lines of battle run
By tattered town and ruined mead,
The honour that men give with pride
To those who, daffing death aside,
Have done the valorous deed.
Election Day, November 1884
© Walt Whitman
If I should need to name, O Western World, your powerfulest scene and show,
Twould not be you, Niagaranor you, ye limitless prairiesnor your huge rifts of canyons, Colorado,
To Hope
© Thomas Hood
Oh! take, young Seraph, take thy harp,
And play to me so cheerily;
For grief is dark, and care is sharp,
And life wears on so wearily.
A Vine-Arbour In The Far West
© Jean Ingelow
Laura, my Laura! 'Yes, mother!' 'I want you, Laura; come down.'
'What is it, mother-what, dearest? O your loved face how it pales!
You tremble, alas and alas-you heard bad news from the town?'
'Only one short half hour to tell it. My poor courage fails-
Sonnett - IX
© James Russell Lowell
My Love, I have no fear that thou shouldst die;
Albeit I ask no fairer life than this,
Verses on the Death of Dr. Swift, D.S.P.D.
© Jonathan Swift
Dear honest Ned is in the gout,
Lies rack'd with pain, and you without:
How patiently you hear him groan!
How glad the case is not your own!
Hezekiah
© Thomas Parnell
From the bleak Beach and broad expanse of sea,
To lofty Salem, Thought direct thy way;
Mount thy light chariot, move along the plains,
And end thy flight where Hezekiah reigns.
Book Ninth [Residence in France]
© William Wordsworth
EVEN as a river,--partly (it might seem)
Yielding to old remembrances, and swayed
Kinmont Willie
© Andrew Lang
O have ye na heard o the fause Sakelde?
O have ye na heard o the keen Lord Scroop?
How they hae taen bauld Kinmont Willie,
On Hairibee to hang him up?
Nursing
© Charles Lamb
O hush, my little baby brother;
Sleep, my love, upon my knee.
What though, dear child, we've lost our mother;
That can never trouble thee.
A Rhymed Lesson (Urania)
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
Are angel faces, silent and serene,
Bent on the conflicts of this little scene,
Whose dream-like efforts, whose unreal strife,
Are but the preludes to a larger life?
The Introduction
© Anne Kingsmill Finch
Did I, my lines intend for publick view,
How many censures, wou'd their faults persue,
San Francisco [ From The Sea]
© Francis Bret Harte
SERENE, indifferent of Fate,
Thou sittest at the Western Gate;
Further Language From Truthful James
© Francis Bret Harte
Do I sleep? do I dream?
Do I wonder and doubt?
Are things what they seem?
Or is visions about?
Is our civilization a failure?
Or is the Caucasian played out?
Scenes Favourable To Meditation
© William Cowper
Wilds horrid and dark with o'er shadowing trees,
Rocks that ivy and briers infold,
Scenes nature with dread and astonishment sees,
But I with a pleasure untold;
Properzia Rossi
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
Tell me no more, no more
Of my soul's lofty gifts! Are they not vain
The Cōforte of Louers
© Stephen Hawes
The prohemye.
The gentyll poetes/vnder cloudy fygures
Do touche a trouth/and clokeit subtylly
Harde is to cōstrue poetycall scryptures