Peace poems
/ page 272 of 319 /Faustus And Helen
© Arthur Symons
HELEN
Have I slept long? You waken me from sleep.
I have forgotten something: what is it?
Bretton Wood
© Ivan Donn Carswell
It happened by Bretton Wood (although that
wasnt its real name) and I recall a clear, grey dawn
and the tall sky fallow with torpid clouds;
we went on before to watch how they sundered out
Almost taste the flavour
© Ivan Donn Carswell
It was a fat-tyred 4WD utility hard back,
the sort of ute youd expect a contractor
to drive, except it was plastered with tacky
stickers, and no genuine subby does that.
The Farewell to Clarimonde
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
Adieu, Romauld! But thou canst not forget me.
Although no more I haunt thy dreams at night,
Thy hungering heart forever must regret me,
And starve for those lost moments of delight.
An excerpt from "Mass for the Day of St. Thomas Didymus"
© Denise Levertov
iiGloriaPraise the wet snow
falling early.
Praise the shadow
my neighor's chimney casts on the tile roof
In Memory Of Charles Wentworth Upham, Jr.
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
HE was all sunshine; in his face
The very soul of sweetness shone;
Fairest and gentlest of his race;
None like him we can call our own.
The Great Black Heron
© Denise Levertov
Since I stroll in the woods more often
than on this frequented path, it's usually
trees I observe; but among fellow humans
what I like best is to see an old woman
Aware
© Denise Levertov
When I found the door
I found the vine leaves
speaking among themselves in abundant
whispers.
Crumble-Hall
© Mary Leapor
When Friends or Fortune frown on Mira's Lay,
Or gloomy Vapours hide the Lamp of Day;
With low'ring Forehead, and with aching Limbs,
Oppress'd with Head-ach, and eternal Whims,
Sad Mira vows to quit the darling Crime:
Yet takes her Farewel, and Repents, in Rhyme.
The Borough. Letter XVIII: The Poor And Their
© George Crabbe
applause:
To her own house is borne the week's supply;
There she in credit lives, there hopes in peace to
To Gordon Leaving Khartoum
© George MacDonald
The silence of traitorous feet!
The silence of close-pent rage!
The roar, and the sudden heart-beat!
And the shot through the true heart going,
The truest heart of the age!
And the Nile serenely flowing!
Lallegro
© Coventry Kersey Dighton Patmore
Felicity!
Who ope'st to none that knocks, yet, laughing weak,
Peace Proposal
© Sheldon Allan Silverstein
Said General Clay to General Gore really must we fight this silly war
To kill and die in such a bore I quite agree said General Gore
Said General Gore to General Clay we could go to the beach today
And have some icecream on the way a grand idea said General Clay
What Were They Like?
© Denise Levertov
Did the people of Viet Nam
use lanterns of stone?
Did they hold ceremonies
to reverence the opening of buds?
The Expert
© Rudyard Kipling
Youth that trafficked long with Death,
And to second life returns,
Squanders little time or breath
On his fellow-man's concerns.
Earned peace is all he asks
To fulfill his broken tasks.
The Dream of Eugene Aram
© Thomas Hood
'Twas in the prime of summer-time
An evening calm and cool,
And four-and-twenty happy boys
Came bounding out of school:
There were some that ran and some that leapt,
Like troutlets in a pool.
To His Son, Vincent Corbet
© Richard Corbet
What I shall leave thee none can tell,
But all shall say I wish thee well:
The Golden Legend: VI. The School Of Salerno
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
_Doctor Serafino._ I, with the Doctor Seraphic, maintain,
That a word which is only conceived in the brain
Is a type of eternal Generation;
The spoken word is the Incarnation.
The Banks Of Wye - Book I
© Robert Bloomfield
No butler's proxies snore supine,
Where the old monarch kept his wine;
No Welch ox roasting, horns and all,
Adorns his throng'd and laughing hall;
But where he pray'd, and told his beads,
A thriving ash luxuriant spreads.
Sixth Sunday After Epiphany
© John Keble
There are, who darkling and alone,
Would wish the weary night were gone,