Peace poems
/ page 85 of 319 /
Luther Benson
© James Whitcomb Riley
AFTER READING HIS AUTOBIOGRAPHY
POOR victim of that vulture curse
Contrasted Songs: Song Of The Going Away
© Jean Ingelow
“Old man, upon the green hillside,
With yellow flowers besprinkled o’er,
How long in silence wilt thou bide
At this low stone door?
The Library
© George Crabbe
When the sad soul, by care and grief oppress'd,
Looks round the world, but looks in vain for rest;
Alcohol's Requiem Upon Prof. P. F. K., A Gifted Man, Who Died A Victim Of Strong Drink
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
Ho! ho! Father Death! I have won you another!
Another grand soul I have ruined and taken;
I, who am licensed by good Christian people,
Eat and eat at their souls till by angels forsaken:
I spoil them, I soil them, and past all reclaiming
They fall, sick with sins that are too black for naming.
Upon Eckington Bridge, River Avon
© Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch
O pastoral heart of England! like a psalm
Of green days telling with a quiet beat-
Whittier
© Margaret Elizabeth Sangster
HIS fourscore years and five
Are gone, like a tale that is told.
The quick tears start, there s an ache at the heart,
For we never thought him old.
In the Cathedral Close
© Edward Dowden
IN the Dean's porch a nest of clay
With five small tentants may be seen;
Five solemn faces, each as wise
As if its owner were a Dean.
The King Of Brentford
© William Makepeace Thackeray
There was a king in Brentford,of whom no legends tell,
But who, without his glory,could eat and sleep right well.
His Polly's cotton nightcap,it was his crown of state,
He slept of evenings early,and rose of mornings late.
The Door Of Humility
© Alfred Austin
ENGLAND
We lead the blind by voice and hand,
And not by light they cannot see;
We are not framed to understand
The How and Why of such as He;
In A Garden
© Sara Teasdale
THE world is resting without sound or motion,
Behind the apple tree the sun goes down
Painting with fire the spires and the windows
In the elm-shaded town.
The Departure. AN ELEGY.
© Henry King
VVere I to leave no more then a good friend,
Or but to hear the summons to my end,
(Which I have long'd for) I could then with ease
Attire my grief in words, and so appease
The Old-Fashioned Pair
© Edgar Albert Guest
'Tis a little old house with a squeak in the stairs,
And a porch that seems made for just two easy chairs;
At Malvern
© William Lisle Bowles
I shall behold far off thy towering crest,
Proud mountain! from thy heights as slow I stray
Christmas Day
© John Keble
What sudden blaze of song
Spreads o'er th' expanse of Heaven?
In waves of light it thrills along,
Th' angelic signal given -
"Glory to God!" from yonder central fire
Flows out the echoing lay beyond the starry choir;
The Staff and Scrip
© Dante Gabriel Rossetti
Who rules these lands? the Pilgrim said.
Stranger, Queen Blanchelys.
John Keats
© Adelaide Crapsey
Eternity. Thou shalt
Pass sleeping, nor know
When sleeping ceases. Yet still
A little while thy breathing lasts,
Gradual is fainter: I
must listen close - the end."
Tauler
© John Greenleaf Whittier
And as he walked he prayed. Even the same
Old prayer with which, for half a score of years,
Morning, and noon, and evening, lip and heart
Had groaned: "Have pity upon me, Lord!
Thou seest, while teaching others, I am blind.
Send me a man who can direct my steps!"
Epilogue
© Edgar Lee Masters
You're dreaming worlds. I'm in the King row.
Move as you will, if I can't wreck you
I'll thwart you, harry you, rout you, check you.
He Needed Not
© George MacDonald
Of whispering trees the tongues to hear,
And sermons of the silent stone;
To read in brooks the print so clear
Of motion, shadowy light, and tone-
That man hath neither eye nor ear
Who careth not for human moan.
