Peace poems
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To My Native Land
© Jens Baggesen
Thou spot of earth, where from the breast of woe
My eye first rose, and in the purple glow
Of morning, and the dewy smile of love,
Marked the first gloamings of the Power above:
Titmarshs Carmen Lilliense
© William Makepeace Thackeray
My heart is weary, my peace is gone,
How shall I e'er my woes reveal?
I have no money, I lie in pawn,
A stranger in the town of Lille.
Tale XXI
© George Crabbe
rise;
Not there the wise alone their entrance find,
Imparting useful light to mortals blind;
But, blind themselves, these erring guides hold out
Alluring lights to lead us far about;
Screen'd by such means, here Scandal whets her
Lohengrin: Proem
© Emma Lazarus
THE alert and valiant faith that could respond,
Upon life's threshold, to the highest call,
Unquestioning of what might lie beyond,
Courage afield and courtesy in hall,
Before Death (Mrityu-r Agey)
© Jibanananda Das
We who have walked deserted stubble fields on a December evening,
Who have seen over the field's edge a soft river woman scattering
Her fog flowers-they all are like some village girls of old-
We who have seen in darkness the akanda tree, the dhundul plant
Filled with fireflies, the moon standing quietly at the head of
An already harvested field-she has no yearning for that harvest;
The Menagerie
© Osip Emilevich Mandelstam
The rejected word "peace"
At the beginning of an outraged era;
A church lamp in a grotto
And the air of mountain lands
On Seeing The Diabutsu--At Kamakura, Japan
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
Long have I searched, Cathedral shrine, and hall,
To find a symbol, from the hand of art,
Peace. A Study
© Charles Stuart Calverley
He stood, a worn-out City clerk -
Who'd toil'd, and seen no holiday,
Song Of Nature
© Henry David Thoreau
Mine are the night and morning,
The pits of air, the gull of space,
The sportive sun, the gibbous moon,
The innumerable days.
St. Crispins Day Speech: from Henry V
© William Shakespeare
WESTMORELAND. O that we now had here
But one ten thousand of those men in England
That do no work to-day!
Sonnet LIII: Drawn
© Samuel Daniel
Drawn by th'attractive virtue of her eyes,
My touch'd heart turns it to that happy coast;
A poem, Sacred to the Glorious memory of King George
© Richard Savage
He said.-Again, with Majesty refin'd,
Up-wing'd to Realms of Bliss, th'Ætherial Mind.
The Love Sonnets Of Proteus. Part I: To Manon: X
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
ON HER FORGIVENESS OF A WRONG
This is not virtue. To forgive were great
If love were in the issue and not gold.
But wrongs there are 'tis treason to forget,
On the Baptized Ethiopian
© Richard Crashaw
Let it no longer be a forlorn hope
To wash an Ethiop :
He's wash'd, his gloomy skin a peaceful shade
For his white soul is made :
And now, I doubt not, the Eternal Dove
A black-faced house will love.
The Columbiad: Book II
© Joel Barlow
High o'er his world as thus Columbus gazed,
And Hesper still the changing scene emblazed,
Round all the realms increasing lustre flew,
And raised new wonders to the Patriarch's view.
Return
© John Wilmot
Absent from thee, I languish still;
Then ask me not, When I return?
The straying fool 'twill plainly kill
To wish all day, all night to mourn.
He Makes An End
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
What shall I tell you, dear, who have told all,
What do, whose wish, whose will is manacled,
What dare, whose duty at your festival
Is but to light the candles round Love's bed?
When the Bush Begins to Speak
© Henry Lawson
They know us not in England yet, their pens are overbold;
We're seen in fancy pictures that are fifty years too old.
