War poems

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A Lament

© John Greenleaf Whittier

The circle is broken, one seat is forsaken,
One bud from the tree of our friendship is shaken;
One heart from among us no longer shall thrill
With joy in our gladness, or grief in our ill.

The Buried Flower

© William Edmondstoune Aytoun

In the silence of my chamber,
When the night is still and deep,
And the drowsy heave of ocean
Mutters in its charmed sleep,

The Voyageur

© William Henry Drummond

Dere's somet'ing stirrin' ma blood tonight,

On de night of de young new year,

Initiation

© Robert Laurence Binyon

The wind has fal'n asleep; the bough that tost
Is quiet; the warm sun's gone; the wide light
Sinks and is almost lost;
Yet the April day glows on within my mind

Lines On A Late Hospicious Ewent, By A Gebtleman Of The Footguards (Blue)

© William Makepeace Thackeray

I paced upon my beat
With steady step and slow,
All huppandownd of Ranelagh Street:
Ran'lagh St. Pimlico.

The Road to Roundabout

© Gilbert Keith Chesterton

Some say that Guy of Warwick

The man that killed the Cow,

Ballad Of The Drover

© Henry Lawson

Across the stony ridges,

Across the rolling plain,

The Society Upon The Stanislaus

I reside at Table Mountain, and my name is Truthful James;
I am not up to small deceit or any sinful games;
And I'll tell in simple language what I know about the row
That broke up our Society upon the Stanislow.

Habakkuk

© Thomas Parnell

Here terrour leaves me with exalted head,
I breath fine air, and find the vision fled,
The Seer withdrawn, inspir'd, and urg'd to write,
By the warm influence of the sacred sight.

Spring Flowers From Ireland

© Denis Florence MacCarthy

On receiving an early crocus and some violets in a letter from Ireland.

Within the letter's rustling fold

A Picture

© Frances Anne Kemble

Through the half-open'd casement stream'd the light

Of the departing sun. The golden haze

Pharsalia - Book VII: The Battle

© Marcus Annaeus Lucanus

Then burned their souls
At these his words, indignant at the thought,
And Rome rose up within them, and to die
Was welcome.

Farewell To Brother Jonathan

© Anonymous

Farewell! we must part; we have turned from the land
Of our cold-hearted brother, with tyrannous hand,
Who assumed all our rights as a favor to grant,
And whose smile ever covered the sting of a taunt;

Ode an die Freude

O Freunde, nicht diese Tone!
Sondern lasst uns angenehmere anstimmen
Und freudenvollere!

Cymru

Dim in the mist of ages, seeking a resting-place,

Broke on the shores of Britain the wave of an Aryan race.

The Song Of Hiawatha XIX: The Ghosts

Never stoops the soaring vulture

On his quarry in the desert,

Shooting

The Monarch hears, and with reluctant eyes
Gives the consent his boding heart denies;
His brow a placid guise dissembling wears,
While Reason vainly combats stronger fears.