Peace poems
/ page 90 of 319 /The Mask Of Anarchy
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
I.
As I lay asleep in Italy
There came a voice from over the Sea,
And with great power it forth led me
To walk in the visions of Poesy.
A Day in Sussex
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
The dove did lend me wings. I fled away
From the loud world which long had troubled me.
Rosamund
© Jean Ingelow
I dwell where England narrows running north;
And while our hay was cut came rumours up
Humming and swarming round our heads like bees:
The Three Pilgrims
© Archibald Lampman
In days, when the fruit of men's labour was sparing,
And hearts were weary and nigh to break,
A sweet grave man with a beautiful bearing
Came to us once in the fields and spake.
An Anniversary
© Ada Cambridge
AS flower to sun its drop of dew
Gives from its crystal cup,
So I, as morning gift to you,
This poor verse offer up.
II.
Donacha Rua
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
Donacha rua of Donegal,
(Holy Mary, how slow the dawn!)
This is the hour of your loss or gain
Is go d-tigeadh tu mo mhúirnin slán!
The Thin People
© Sylvia Plath
They are always with us, the thin people
Meager of dimension as the gray people
Guy Of The Temple
© John Hay
Night hangs above the valley; dies the day
In peace, casting his last glance on my cross,
And warns me to my prayers. _Ave Maria!
Mother of God! the evening fades
On wave and hill and lea_,
Celebration Of Peace
© Friedrich Hölderlin
The holy, familiar hall, built long ago,
Is aired, and filled with heavenly,
The Borough. Letter IV: Sects And Professions In Religion
© George Crabbe
"SECTS in Religion?"--Yes of every race
We nurse some portion in our favour'd place;
"Now that I have won"
© Robert Laurence Binyon
Now that I have won
Long despaired of peace,
And those fears are flown
That vext so my heart's ease;
Between The Wind And Rain
© Isabella Valancy Crawford
"The storm is in the air," she said, and held
Her soft palm to the breeze; and looking up,
An Imitation Of Some French Verses
© Thomas Parnell
Relentless Time! destroying Pow'r
Whom Stone and Brass obey,
Go Work in My Vineyard
© Frances Ellen Watkins Harper
The hands whose touch sent thrills of joy
Through nerves unstrung and palsied rame,
The feet that travelled for our need,
Were nailed unto the cross of shame.
The Task: Book VI. -- The Winter Walk at Noon
© William Cowper
There is in souls a sympathy with sounds;
And as the mind is pitchd the ear is pleased
Evangeline: Part The First. I.
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
IN the Acadian land, on the shores of the Basin of Minas,
Distant, secluded, still, the little village of Grand-Pré
Metamorphoses: Book The Second
© Ovid
The End of the Second Book.
Translated into English verse under the direction of
Sir Samuel Garth by John Dryden, Alexander Pope, Joseph Addison,
William Congreve and other eminent hands
In The Downhill Of Life
© William Taylor Collins
In the downhill of life, when I find Im declining,
May my lot no less fortunate be
August
© Edith Nesbit
LEAVE me alone, for August's sleepy charm
Is on me, and I will not break the spell;
My head is on the mighty Mother's arm:
I will not ask if life goes ill or well.
There is no world!--I do not care to know
Whence aught has come, nor whither it shall go.