War poems
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Advent Sunday
© John Keble
Awake-again the Gospel-trump is blown -
From year to year it swells with louder tone,
From year to year the signs of wrath
Are gathering round the Judge's path,
Strange words fulfilled, and mighty works achieved,
And truth in all the world both hated and believed.
Last Words
© Sylvia Plath
I do not want a plain box, I want a sarcophagus
With tigery stripes, and a face on it
Childe Harold's Pilgrimage: A Romaunt. Canto II.
© George Gordon Byron
1
Tambourgi! Tambourgi! thy 'larum afar
Gives hope to the valiant, and promise of war:
All the sons of the mountains arise at the note,
Chimariot, Illyrian, and dark Suliote!
The Believer's Danger, Safety, And Duty
© John Newton
Simon, beware! the Saviour said,
Satan, your subtle foe,
Already has his measures laid
Your soul to overthrow.
Pretence. Part II - The Library
© John Kenyon
From such a world, all touch, all ear, all eye,
What marvel, then, if proud Abstraction fly;
Amid Hercynian shades pursue his theme,
And leave the land of Locke to gold and steam?
Ode To A Mountain-Torrent (From The German Of Stolberg)
© George Borrow
How lovely art thou in thy tresses of foam,
And yet the warm blood in my bosom grows chill,
When yelling thou rollest thee down from thy home,
Mid the boom of the echoing forest and hill.
The City
© Archibald Lampman
Beyond the dusky corn-fields, toward the west,
Dotted with farms, beyond the shallow stream,
The Lament For Shuil Donalds Daughter
© Caroline Norton
I.
IN old Shuil Donald's cottage there are many voices weeping,
And stifled sobs, and murmurings of sorrow wild and vain,
For the old man's cherish'd blessing on her bed of death lies sleeping,--
The four Monarchyes, the Assyrian being the first, beginning under Nimrod, 131. Years after the Floo
© Anne Bradstreet
When time was young, & World in Infancy,
Man did not proudly strive for Soveraignty:
Song
© William Cullen Bryant
Dost thou idly ask to hear
At what gentle seasons
Nymphs relent, when lovers near
Press the tenderest reasons?
The Magpie's Nest, Or A Lesson Of Docility
© Charles Lamb
When the arts in their infancy were,
In a fable of old 'tis exprest,
A wise magpie constructed that rare
Little house for young birds, called a nest.
Davids Lamentation for Saul and Jonathan.
© Anne Bradstreet
2. Sam. 1. 19.Alas slain is the Head of Israel,
Illustrious Saul whose beauty did excell,
I Chide Not At The Seasons
© Alfred Austin
I chide not at the seasons, for if Spring
With backward look refuses to be fair,
The Task : Complete
© William Cowper
In man or woman, but far most in man,
And most of all in man that ministers
And serves the altar, in my soul I loathe
All affectation. 'Tis my perfect scorn;
Object of my implacable disgust.
Paracelsus: Part I: Paracelsus Aspires
© Robert Browning
Scene.- Würzburg; a garden in the environs. 1512.
Festus, Paracelsus, Michal.
The Village (book 2)
© George Crabbe
NO longer truth, though shown in verse, disdain,
But own the village life a life of pain;
I too must yield, that oft amid these woes
Are gleams of transient mirth and hours of sweet repose.
