Peace poems
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Love Chapter II
© Khalil Gibran
Then said Almitra, "Speak to us of Love."
And he raised his head and looked upon the people, and there fell a stillness upon them.
And with a great voice he said:
The Venetian Gondolier
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Here rest the weary oar! -- soft airs
Breathe out in the o'erarching sky;
And Night!-- sweet Night -- serenely wears
A smile of peace; her noon is nigh.
To Germany
© Charles Hamilton Sorley
When it is peace, then we may view again
With new won eyes each other's truer form and wonder.
Grown more loving kind and warm
We'll grasp firm hands and laugh at the old pain,
When it is peace. But until peace, the storm,
The darkness and the thunder and the rain.
A Song
© Edgar Albert Guest
Rough be the road and long,
Steep be the hills ahead,
Grant that my faith be strong,
Fearlessly let me tread.
After the day's hard test
Home with its peaceful rest.
A Farewell to the World
© Benjamin Jonson
FALSE world, good night! since thou hast brought
That hour upon my morn of age;
Henceforth I quit thee from my thought,
My part is ended on thy stage.
Summer By The Lakeside: Lake Winnipesaukee
© John Greenleaf Whittier
I. NOON.
White clouds, whose shadows haunt the deep,
Light mists, whose soft embraces keep
The sunshine on the hills asleep!
Sonnet LI: Calling to Mind
© Michael Drayton
Calling to mind, since first my love begun,
Th'uncertain times oft varying in their course,
How things still unexpectedly have run,
As it please the Fates, by their resistless force.
Look Not Too Deep
© Robert Laurence Binyon
Look not too deep in my heart,
My beloved; nay, lean not too near
From the shores of thy peace, lest thou start
From the midst of thy sweet thoughts to hear
Duty
© Edgar Albert Guest
We know not where the path may lead nor what the end may be,
The clouds are dark above us now, the future none can see,
And yet when all the storms have passed, and cannons cease to roar,
We shall be prouder of our flag than we have been before.
Vidrik Verlandson (From The Old Danish)
© George Borrow
King Diderik sits in the halls of Bern,
And he boasts of his deeds of might;
So many a swain in battle hes felld,
And taken so many a knight.
Wordsworth's Grave
© William Watson
The old rude church, with bare, bald tower, is here;
Beneath its shadow high-born Rotha flows;
Rotha, remembering well who slumbers near,
And with cool murmur lulling his repose
Sonnet LXIII: Truce, Gentle Love
© Michael Drayton
Truce, gentle Love, a parley now I crave;
Methinks 'tis long since first these wars begun;
Pastoral
© Kenneth Patchen
The Dove walks with sticky feet
Upon the green crowns of the almond tree,
Its feathers smeared over with warmth
Like honey
That dips lazily down into the shadow ...
Absolution II
© Edith Nesbit
UNBIND thine eyes, with thine own soul confer,
Look on the sins that made thy life unclean,
The Old Wooden Cradle
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
Good-bye to the cradle, the dear wooden cradle
The rude hand of Progress has thrust it aside.
No more to its motion o'er sleep's fairy ocean,
Our play-weary wayfarers peacefully glide.
On The Victory Obtained By Blake Over the Spaniards, In The Bay Of Scanctacruze, In The Island Of teneriff.1657
© Andrew Marvell
Now does Spains Fleet her spatious wings unfold,
Leaves the new World and hastens for the old:
But though the wind was fair, the slowly swoome
Frayted with acted Guilt, and Guilt to come:
Sonnets on the Discovery of Botany Bay by Captain Cook
© Henry Kendall
The First Attempt to Reach the Shore
Where is the painter who shall paint for you,
Peruvian Tales: Zilia, Tale III
© Helen Maria Williams
PIZARRO takes possession of Cuzco-The fanaticism of VALVERDA , a
Spanish priest-Its dreadful effects-A Peruvian priest put to the tor-
ture-His Daughter's distress-He is rescued by LAS CASAS , a Spa-
nish ecclesiastic-And led to a place of safety, where he dies-His
Daughter's narration of her sufferings-Her death.
Fleckno, an English Priest at Rome
© Andrew Marvell
Oblig'd by frequent visits of this man,
Whom as Priest, Poet, and Musician,
I for some branch of Melchizedeck took,
(Though he derives himself from my Lord Brooke)
