Peace poems

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The Farewell

© Konstantin Nikolaevich Batiushkov

BENT o'er his sabre, torrents starting
From his dim eyes, the bold hussar
Thus greets his cherish'd maid, while parting
For distant fields of war:

Tolstoi Is Plowing Yet

© Vachel Lindsay

Tolstoi is plowing yet. When the smoke-clouds break,
High in the sky shines a field as wide as the world.
There he toils for the Kingdom of Heavens sake.

Poverty

© Thomas Traherne

As in the house I sate,

Alone and desolate,

Tamerton Church-Tower, Or, First Love

© Coventry Kersey Dighton Patmore

III.
You paint a leaflet, here and there;
And not the blossom: tell
What mysteries of good and fair
These blazon'd letters spell.

Kerosine Bay

© Henry Lawson

Tis strange on such a peaceful day
With white clouds flying oer,
That foreign boats are in the bay
As prisoners of war.
The Harbour, where they quietly lay;
Smiles brightly as of yore.

After Drafting

© Roderic Quinn

NIGHT has fallen, night and darkness,
Night with star and planet splendid;
And the earth lies like a giant
Wrapt in sleep, with limbs extended.

The Garden-Chair

© Dinah Maria Mulock Craik

TWO PORTRAITS.
A PLEASANT picture, full of meanings deep,
Old age, calm sitting in the July sun,
On withered hands half-leaning--feeble hands,

At Sea

© James Whitcomb Riley

O we go down to sea in ships--

But Hope remains behind,

For Peace

© Harriet Monroe

Flowers grow in the grass,
Baby footfalls pass
Over the fields once red,
Over the hero's head
For Peace.

Elegy I. To Charles Deodati (Translated From Milton)

© William Cowper

At length, my friend, the far-sent letters come,

Charged with thy kindness, to their destin'd home,

Jessie Lee

© William Barnes

Above the timber's bendèn sh'ouds,

The western wind did softly blow;

The Spirits for Good

© Henry Lawson

We come with peace and reason,
We come with love and light,
To banish black self-treason
And everlasting night.

The Wanderer: A Vision: Canto II

What scene of agony the garden brings;
The cup of gall; the suppliant king of kings!
The crown of thorns; the cross, that felt him die;
These, languid in the sketch, unfinish'd lie.

They came! they came! like the fierce prairie flame,
Sweeping on to the sun-setting shore:
Gazing now on its waves, but a handful of braves,
We shall join in the the chase nevermore
Till we camp on the plains where the Great Spirit reigns,
We shall join in the chase nevermore.

Yu-Pe-Yas Dirge For Tse-Ky

DEAD, my beloved! This small purple weed
That grows upon thy grave shall have its time
To ripen and to wane, to bloom and seed;
But thou, strong doer, mightst not wait thy deed,
But thou, oh noblest, mightst not wait thy meed:
Dead in thy prime!

Conscience

Peace, pratler, do not lowre:
Not a fair look, but thou dost call it foul:
Not a sweet dish, but thou dost call it sowre:
Musick to thee doth howl.
By listning to thy chatting fears
I have both lost mine eyes and eares.