Peace poems
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The Poet's Dead
© Mikhail Lermontov
He's slain - and taken by the grave
Like that unknown, but happy bard,
Victim of jealousy wild,
Of whom he sang with wondrous power,
Struck down, like him, by an unyielding hand.
An American Tale
© Helen Maria Williams
"Ah! pity all the pangs I feel,
If pity e'er ye knew;-
An aged father's wounds to heal,
Through scenes of death I flew.
Hyperion. Book I
© John Keats
Deep in the shady sadness of a vale
Far sunken from the healthy breath of morn,
Songs Written to Welsh Airs
© Amelia Opie
How fondly I gaze on the fast falling-leaves,
That mark, as I wander, the summer's decline;
And then I exclaim, while my conscious heart heaves,
"Thus early to droop and to perish be mine!"
Nuremberg
© Kenneth Slessor
So quiet it was in that high, sun-steeped room,
So warm and still, that sometimes with the light
Through the great windows, bright with bottle-panes,
Thered float a chime from clock-jacks out of sight,
Clapping iron mallets on green copper gongs.
Life
© James Weldon Johnson
Out of the infinite sea of eternity
To climb, and for an instant stand
Upon an island speck of time.
From the impassible peace of the darkness
To wake, and blink at the garish light
Through one short hour of fretfulness.
The Herder's Reverie
© Arthur Chapman
The sheep are down at the water, a-drinkin' their bloomin' fill,
An' me and the dog are dozin', as herders and collies will;
The world may be movin' somewheres, but here it is standin' still.
Satyr I. A Letter To A Friend. On Poets.
© Thomas Parnell
Poets are bound by ye severest rules,
the great ones must be mad, ye little all are fools,
Then And Now
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
A little time agone, a few brief years,
And there was peace within our beauteous borders;
Peace, and a prosperous people, and no fears
Of war and its disorders.
Pleasure was ruling goddess of our land; with her attendant Mirth
She led a jubilant, joy-seeking band about the riant earth.
Septuagesima Sunday
© John Keble
There is a book, who runs may read,
Which heavenly truth imparts,
And all the lore its scholars need,
Pure eyes and Christian hearts.
The Bridal
© Robert Laurence Binyon
When we said ``I am thine'' and ``I am thine,''
We were as children crying a delight
Their hearts indeed divine
But cannot understand
Christmas
© Henry Timrod
How grace this hallowed day?
Shall happy bells, from yonder ancient spire,
Send their glad greetings to each Christmas fire
Round which the children play?
Welcome To Frost
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
O SPIRIT! at whose wafts of chilling breath
Autumn unbinds her zone, to rest in death;
Touched by whose blight the light of cordial days
Is lost in sombre browns and sullen grays;
Hudibras: Part 1 - Canto I
© Samuel Butler
His doublet was of sturdy buff,
And tho' not sword, yet cudgel-proof;
Whereby 'twas fitter for his use,
Who fear'd no blows, but such as bruise.
"Flowers Of France" Decoration Poem For Soldiers' Graves, Tours, France, May 30, 1918
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
Flowers of France in the Spring,
Your growth is a beautiful thing;
At The Saturday Club
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
I start; I wake; the vision is withdrawn;
Its figures fading like the stars at dawn;
Crossed from the roll of life their cherished names,
And memory's pictures fading in their frames;
Yet life is lovelier for these transient gleams
Of buried friendships; blest is he who dreams!
The Fools
© Muriel Stuart
BELOW, the street was hoarse with cries,
With groan of carts and scuffling feet,
With laughter worse than blasphemies,
Was choked with dust and blind with heat,
This room was still-too still for peace.
Lines On The Death Of Bismarck
© John Jay Chapman
Thought cannot grasp the Cause: 'tis in the abyss
With Nature's secrets. But, gigantic wreck,
Thou wast the Instrument! And thy huge limbs
Cover nine kingdoms as thou lie'st asleep.
