Peace poems
/ page 224 of 319 /
The Old Age Of Queen Maeve
© William Butler Yeats
A certain poet in outlandish clothes
Gathered a crowd in some Byzantine lane,
Sonnet -- The Peasant
© Mary Darby Robinson
WIDE o'er the barren plain the bleak wind flies,
Sweeps the high mountain's top, and with its breath
Swells the curl'd river o'er the plain beneath,
Where many a clay-built hut in ruin lies.
Manhattan Streets I Saunter'd, Pondering
© Walt Whitman
Manhatten's streets I saunter'd, pondering,
On time, space, reality-on such as these, and abreast with them,
prudence.
Peace
© Ada Cambridge
So still! So calm! Will our life's eve come thus?
No sound of strife, of labour or of pain,
No ring of woodman's axe, no dip of oar.
Will work be done, and night's rest earned, for us?
And shall we wake to see sunrise again?
Or shall we sleep, to see and know no more?
Come, Gentle God
© James Thomson
Come, gentle God of soft desire,
Come and possess my happy breast,
Not fury-like in flames and fire,
Or frantic folly's wildness dressed;
Magical Mystery Tour
© Charles Bukowski
as we drive up a steep road
the blonde squeezes my leg
and nestles closer
while raven hair
leans across and nibbles my
ear.
Written Soon After The Preceding Poem
© Charles Lamb
Thou should'st have longer liv'd, and to the grave
Have peacefully gone down in full old age!
Written At Paris, 1700. In The Beginning Of Robe's Geography
© Matthew Prior
Then as thou wilt dispose the rest
(And let not Fortune spoil the jest)
To those who at the market-rate
Can barter honour for estate.
Strife and Peace
© Jean Ingelow
The yellow poplar-leaves came down
And like a carpet lay,
No waftings were in the sunny air
To flutter them away;
And he stepped on blithe and debonair
That warm October day.
Auri Sacra Fames
© George Essex Evans
Gone are the mists of old in the light of the larger day!
Gone is the foolish hope, the trust in a Power above!
Science has swept the heavens and brushed religion away!
What need we hope or fear? Warfare is clothed like Love!
Priestcraft is but a tradesouls can be bought and sold!
Why should we seek for a godnow that our god is Gold?
The Dead Beggar
© Charlotte Turner Smith
AN ELEGY.
Addressed to a Lady, who was affected at seeing the
Funeral of a nameless Pauper, buried at the ex-
pense of the Parish, in the Church-Yard at Bright-
Dickens
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
METHINKS the air
Throbs with the tolling of harmonious bells,
Rung by the bands of spirits; everywhere
We feel the presence of a soft despair
And thrill to voices of divine farewells.
The Angel In The House. Book II. Canto X.
© Coventry Kersey Dighton Patmore
I
At Church, in twelve hours more, we meet!
This, Dearest, is our last farewell.
Oh, Felix, do you love me? Sweet,
Why do you ask? I cannot tell.
Eva
© John Greenleaf Whittier
Dry the tears for holy Eva,
With the blessed angels leave her;
Of the form so soft and fair
Give to earth the tender care.
An Evening Prayer
© George MacDonald
I am a bubble
Upon thy ever-moving, resting sea:
Oh, rest me now from tossing, trespass, trouble!
Take me down into thee.
Peace-Hymn Of The Republic
© Henry Van Dyke
O Lord our God, Thy mighty hand
Hath made our country free;
A Picture
© John Henry Newman
"The maiden is not dead, but sleepeth."
She is not gone;still in our sight
That dearest maid shall live,
In form as true, in tints as bright,
As youth and health could give.
The Banks Of Wye - Book IV
© Robert Bloomfield
Here ivy'd fragments, lowering, throw
Broad shadows on the poor below,
Who, while they rest, and when they die,
Sleep on the rock-built shores of WYE.
The Gloomy Night Is Gath'ring Fast
© Robert Burns
The gloomy night is gath'ring fast,
Loud roars the wild inconstant blast;
