Peace poems

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Three Dead Friends

© James Whitcomb Riley

Always suddenly they are gone--

The friends we trusted and held secure--

Marseilles secur'd by many a strengthen'd tower
Mock'd dauntless Cæsar and his veteran power;
Wearied at length, but sure of fortune's aid,
He bid the sea their floating works invade.
Thus check'd the siege long, bloody, and severe,
Of Rome's experienced chiefs the bold career.

After A Lecture On Shelley

© Oliver Wendell Holmes

ONE broad, white sail in Spezzia's treacherous bay
On comes the blast; too daring bark, beware I
The cloud has clasped her; to! it melts away;
The wide, waste waters, but no sail is there.

A Castaway

© Augusta Davies Webster

So long since:
and now it seems a jest to talk of me
as if I could be one with her, of me
who am…… me.

On The Truth Of The Saviour

© George Moses Horton

E'en John the Baptist did not know
Who Christ the Lord could be,
And bade his own disciples go
The strange event to see.

The Dawn of God's Sabbath

© Ada Cambridge

The dawn of Gods dear Sabbath

Breaks oer the earth again,

Eclogue Of The Shepherd And The Townie

© Anthony Evan Hecht

SHEPHERD

Silent Camp

© Jessie Pope

In heaven, a pale uncertain star,
Through sullen vapour peeps,
On earth, extended wide and far,
In all the symmetry of war,
A weary army sleeps.

Little Nell's Funeral

© Charles Dickens

And now the bell, - the bell
She had so often heard by night and day
And listened to with solemn pleasure,
E'en as a living voice, -
Rung its remorseless toll for her,
So young, so beautiful, so good.

The Sixth Sense

© Nikolai Stepanovich Gumilev

Fine is the wine that is in love with us,
The goodly bread we wait for from the oven,
And woman whom we have possessed, at last,
After we've suffered under yoke her own.

When We're All Alike

© Edgar Albert Guest

I've trudged life's highway up and down;

I've watched the lines of men march by;

Evening Song

© Friedrich Rückert

I stood on the mountain summit,
At the hour when the sun did set;
I mark'd how it hung o'er the woodland
The evening's golden net.

Mirage

Is it a will-o'-the-wisp, or is dawn breaking,
That our horizon wears so strange a hue?
Is it but one more dream, or are we waking
To find that dreams, at last, are coming true?

Dear Doctor, I have Read your Play

Dear Doctor, I have read your play,

Which is a good one in its way,

Unveiled

Oh! sometimes by the fire
Of holy passion, in me, all subdued,
And melted to a mortal woman's mood,
Tender and warm,--
She, from her goddess height,
In gracious answer to my soul's desire,

Fragment Of An Ode To Canada

This is the land!
It lies outstretched a vision of delight,
Bent like a shield between the silver seas
It flashes back the hauteur of the sun;
Yet teems with humblest beauties, still a part
Of its Titanic and ebullient heart.