Peace poems
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But Not To Me
© Sara Teasdale
The April night is still and sweet
With flowers on every tree;
Peace comes to them on quiet feet,
But not to me.
Alone
© Sara Teasdale
I am alone, in spite of love,
In spite of all I take and give
In spite of all your tenderness,
Sometimes I am not glad to live.
After Love
© Sara Teasdale
There is no magic any more,
We meet as other people do,
You work no miracle for me
Nor I for you.
Gilbert
© Charlotte Bronte
I. THE GARDEN.ABOVE the city hung the moon,
Right o'er a plot of ground
Where flowers and orchard-trees were fenced
With lofty walls around:
Winter Stores
© Charlotte Bronte
WE take from life one little share,
And say that this shall be
A space, redeemed from toil and care,
From tears and sadness free.
The Missionary
© Charlotte Bronte
Lough, vessel, plough the British main,
Seek the free ocean's wider plain;
Leave English scenes and English skies,
Unbind, dissever English ties;
The Wood
© Charlotte Bronte
BUT two miles more, and then we rest !
Well, there is still an hour of day,
And long the brightness of the West
Will light us on our devious way;
Presentiment
© Charlotte Bronte
' SISTER, you've sat there all the day,
Come to the hearth awhile;
The wind so wildly sweeps away,
The clouds so darkly pile.
The Wife's Will
© Charlotte Bronte
SIT stilla worda breath may break
(As light airs stir a sleeping lake,)
The glassy calm that soothes my woes,
The sweet, the deep, the full repose.
O leave me not ! for ever be
Thus, more than life itself to me !
Pleasure
© Charlotte Bronte
True pleasure breathes not city air,
Nor in Art's temples dwells,
In palaces and towers where
The voice of Grandeur dwells.
The Teacher's Monologue
© Charlotte Bronte
The room is quiet, thoughts alone
People its mute tranquillity;
The yoke put on, the long task done,
I am, as it is bliss to be,
The Twelve
© Alexander Blok
III
Our sons have gone
to serve the Reds
to serve the Reds
to risk their heads!
On the Field of Kulicovo
© Alexander Blok
The river stretched. It flows, idly grieves,
And washes both banks.
In steppe, above light clay of cliffs
Rinks mourn in ranks.
The Timber
© Henry Vaughan
Sure thou didst flourish once! and many springs,
Many bright mornings, much dew, many showers,
Pass'd o'er thy head; many light hearts and wings,
Which now are dead, lodg'd in thy living bowers.
The Nativity
© Henry Vaughan
Peace? and to all the world? sure, One
And He the Prince of Peace, hath none.
He travels to be born, and then
Is born to travel more again.
The Evening-Watch: A Dialogue
© Henry Vaughan
3 Go, sleep in peace; and when thou liest
4 Unnumber'd in thy dust, when all this frame
5 Is but one dram, and what thou now descriest
6 In sev'ral parts shall want a name,
7 Then may his peace be with thee, and each dust
8 Writ in his book, who ne'er betray'd man's trust!
Peace
© Henry Vaughan
1 My Soul, there is a country
2 Afar beyond the stars,
3 Where stands a winged sentry
4 All skillful in the wars;
I Walk'd the Other Day
© Henry Vaughan
1 I walk'd the other day, to spend my hour,
2 Into a field,
3 Where I sometimes had seen the soil to yield
4 A gallant flow'r;
Night-Piece
© Siegfried Sassoon
To his cold lips he sets the pipe to blow
Some drowsy note that charms the listening air:
The dryads from their trees come down and creep
Near to his side; monotonous and low,
He plays and plays till at the woodside there
Stirs to the voice of everlasting sleep.
Parted
© Siegfried Sassoon
Sleepless I listen to the surge and drone
And drifting roar of the towns undertone;
Till through quiet falling rain I hear the bells
Tolling and chiming their brief tune that tells
