War poems
/ page 100 of 504 /Tarafa
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
The tent lines these of Kháula in stone--stricken Tháhmadi.
See where the fire has touched them, dyed dark as the hands of her.
'Twas here thy friends consoled thee that day with thee comforting,
cried; Not of grief, thou faint--heart! Men die not thus easily.
From Our Happy Home
© Louisa May Alcott
From our happy home
Through the world we roam
One week in all the year,
Making winter spring
With the joy we bring,
For Christmas-tide is here.
Ormuzd And Ahriman. Part I
© Christopher Pearse Cranch
YE interstellar spaces, serene and still and clear.
Above, below, around!
Ye gray unmeasured breadths of ether, sphere on sphere!
We listen, but no sound
Rings from your depths profound.
Xantippe(A Fragment)
© Amy Levy
What, have I waked again? I never thought
To see the rosy dawn, or ev'n this grey,
A Poet's Home
© George Wither
When you unto the highest do attain
An intermixture both of wood and plain
You shall behold, which, though aloft it lie,
Hath downs for sheep and fields for husbandry,
So much, at least, as little needeth more,
If not enough to merchandise their store.
The Old Retired Sea Captain
© James Whitcomb Riley
The old sea captain has sailed the seas
So long, that the waves at mirth,
Anywhere Out of the World
© Charles Baudelaire
Life is a hospital where every patient is obsessed by the desire of changing beds. One would like to suffer opposite the stove, another is sure he would get well beside the window.
It always seems to me that I should be happy anywhere but where I am, and this question of moving is one that I am eternally discussing with my soul.
On The Death of The Rev'd Dr. Sewall
© Phillis Wheatley
Now this faint Semblance of his life complete
He is, thro' Jesus, made divinely great
And left a glorious pattern to repeat
La Chevelure (Her Hair)
© Charles Baudelaire
Ô toison, moutonnant jusque sur l'encolure!
Ô boucles! Ô parfum chargé de nonchaloir!
Extase! Pour peupler ce soir l'alcôve obscure
Des souvenirs dormant dans cette chevelure,
Je la veux agiter dans l'air comme un mouchoir!
A Panegyric
© Edmund Waller
While with a strong and yet a gentle hand,
You bridle faction, and our hearts command,
Protect us from ourselves, and from the foe,
Make us unite, and make us conquer too;
Shakuntala Act II
© Kalidasa
ACT II
SCENE A PLAIN, with royal pavilions on the skirt of the forest.
The Birds Of Passage
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
Birds, joyous birds of the wandering wing!
Whence is it ye come with the flowers of spring?
–"We come from the shores of the green old Nile,
From the land where the roses of Sharon smile,
From the palms that wave thro' the Indian sky,
From the myrrh-trees of glowing Araby.
The Mallee Fire
© Charles Henry Souter
I SUPPOSE it just depends on where youre raised,
Once I met a cove as swore by green belar!
Sunset
© Henry Kendall
I had studied the lore in her maiden-like ways,
And the large-hearted love of my Annie was won,
Ere Summer had passed into passionate days,
Or Autumn made ready her fruits for the Sun.
The Green-Hand Rouseabout
© Henry Lawson
Breakfast, curried rice and mutton till your innards sacrifice,
And you sicken at the colour and the smell of curried rice.
All day long with living muttonbits and belly-wool and fleece;
Blinded by the yoke of wool, and shirt and trousers stiff with grease,
Till you long for sight of verdure, cabbage-plots and water clear,
And you crave for beef and butter as a boozer craves for beer.
In The Garden At Swainston
© Alfred Tennyson
NIGHTINGALES warbled without,
Within was weeping for thee:
Christmas Carol
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
FAIR Gratitude! in strain sublime,
Swell high to heav'n thy tuneful zeal;
And, hailing this auspicious time,
Kneel, Adoration! kneel!
The Fireside
© Denis Florence MacCarthy
I have tasted all life's pleasures, I have snatched at all its joys,
The dance's merry measures and the revel's festive noise;
Though wit flashed bright the live-long night, and flowed the ruby tide,
I sighed for thee, I sighed for thee, my own fireside!