Peace poems
/ page 209 of 319 /The Disappointment
© Ann Taylor
IN tears to her mother poor Harriet came,
Let us listen to hear what she says:
"O see, dear mamma, it is pouring with rain,
We cannot go out in the chaise.
Occasion'd By Seeing Some Verses Written By Mrs. Constantia Grierson, Upon The Death Of Her Son.
© Mary Barber
Soften, kind Heav'n, her seeming rigid Fate,
With frequent Visions of his blissful State:
Oft let the Guardian Angel of her Son
Tell her in faithful Dreams, His Task is done;
Shew, how he kindly led her lovely Boy
To Realms of Peace, and never--fading Joy.
Open, Time
© Louise Imogen Guiney
Open, Time, and let him pass
Shortly where his feet would be!
Like a leaf at Michaelmas
Swooning from the tree,
Sonnet 107: "Not mine own fears, nor the prophetic soul..."
© William Shakespeare
Not mine own fears, nor the prophetic soul
Of the wide world dreaming on things to come,
Adam: A Sacred Drama. Act 5.
© William Cowper
Adam. Restrain, restrain thy step
Whoe'er thou art, nor with thy songs inveigle
Him, who has only cause for ceaseless tears.
Choriambics -- II
© Rupert Brooke
Here the flame that was ash, shrine that was void,
lost in the haunted wood,
Jack Of The Tules
© Francis Bret Harte
Shrewdly you question, Senor, and I fancy
You are no novice. Confess that to little
Of my poor gossip of Mission and Pueblo
You are a stranger!
Queen Mab: Part V.
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
'Thus do the generations of the earth
Go to the grave and issue from the womb,
Among the Hills
© John Greenleaf Whittier
Through Sandwich notch the west-wind sang
Good morrow to the cotter;
And once again Chocoruas horn
Of shadow pierced the water.
Dawn
© Marjorie Lowry Christie Pickthall
O KEEP the world forever at the dawn,
Ere yet the opals, cobweb-strung, have dried,
The Minstrel
© Arthur Henry Adams
An Incident in One Act.
PERSONS. THE KING, THE QUEEN, EARL ATHULF, THE MINSTREL.
Heralds, Pages, Men-at-Arms, Sentries. TIME: THE PAST.
SCENE:
The Farmer's Boy - Summer
© Robert Bloomfield
Here, midst the boldest triumphs of her worth,
NATURE herself invites the REAPERS forth;
Dares the keen sickle from its twelvemonth's rest,
And gives that ardour which in every breast
From infancy to age alike appears,
When the first sheaf its plumy top uprears.
Song Of America
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
And now, when poets are singing
Their songs of olden days,
And now, when the land is ringing
With sweet Centennial lays,
Translation Of Part Of The First Book Of The Aeneid
© William Wordsworth
THE EDITORS OF THE PHILOLOGICAL MUSEUM
BUT Cytherea, studious to invent
Marmion: Introduction to Canto IV.
© Sir Walter Scott
An ancient minstrel sagely said,
"Where is the life which late we led?"
You are disappointed? You thought...
© Boris Pasternak
You are disappointed? You thought that in peace we
Would part to the sound of a requiem, a swan-song?
You counted on grief, with your pupils dilated,
Their invincibility trying in tears on?
Edwin and Eltruda, a Legendary Tale
© Helen Maria Williams
Where the pure Derwent's waters glide
Along their mossy bed,
Close by the river's verdant side,
A castle rear'd its head.
The Cemetary Of Eylau
© Victor Marie Hugo
This to my elder brothers, schoolboys gay,
Was told by Uncle Louis on a day;
The Chapel of the Hermits
© John Greenleaf Whittier
"I do believe, and yet, in grief,
I pray for help to unbelief;
For needful strength aside to lay
The daily cumberings of my way.