War poems
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The Dunciad: Book III.
© Alexander Pope
But in her Temple's last recess inclos'd,
On Dulness' lap th' Anointed head repos'd.
Sleep by Todd Davis: American Life in Poetry #136 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate 2004-2006
© Ted Kooser
Here's a fine seasonal poem by Todd Davis, who lives and teaches in Pennsylvania. It's about the drowsiness that arrives with the early days of autumn. Can a bear imagine the future? Surely not as a human would, but perhaps it can sense that the world seems to be slowing toward slumber. Who knows?
Sleep
St. Yves Poor
© Marjorie Lowry Christie Pickthall
Thy dead are sheltered; housed and warmed they wait
Under the golden fern, the falling foam;
But these, Thy living, wander desolate
And have not any home.
The Urban Rat And The Suburban Rat
© Guy Wetmore Carryl
A metropolitan rat invited
His country cousin in town to dine:
Changing Of The Seasons
© Sheldon Allan Silverstein
Oh the changing of the seasons it's a pretty thing to see
And though I find this balmy weather pleasin'
There's the wind come from tomorrow and I hear it callin' me
And I'm bound for the changing of the seasons
In The Placid Summer Midnight
© William Ernest Henley
In the placid summer midnight,
Under the drowsy sky,
I seem to hear in the stillness
The moths go glimmering by.
Men in the Rough
© Arthur Chapman
Men in the rough--on the trails all new-broken--
Those are the friends we remember with tears;
Few are the words that such comrades have spoken--
Deeds are their tributes that last through the years.
The Hidden Heart
© Roderic Quinn
AS I rode out of Lochinvar
About me all the scene was fair;
The skies, with not a cloud to mar,
Were filled with fresh and dewy air,
To My Aging Friends
© George MacDonald
It is no winter night comes down
Upon our hearts, dear friends of old;
But a May evening, softly brown,
Whose wind is rather cold.
A Warning: to Aurelius
© Gaius Valerius Catullus
I commend myself and my love to you,
Aurelius. I ask for modest indulgence,
A Lover To His Mistress
© Frances Anne Kemble
Oh make not light of love, my lady dear,
For, from that sweetest source doth ever flow
The Little Left Hand - Act III
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Interior of a Church--Davis, Bradshaw, and others.
Davis. The sword of the Lord and the sword of Gideon!
It was good To see the red--coats run before our multitude.
We broke them by sheer numbers--
Esther, A Sonnet Sequence: XIII
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
A second warning, nor unheeded. Yet
The thought appealed to me as no strange thing,
Pure though I was, that love impure had set
Its seal on that fair woman in her Spring.
Merlin And Vivien
© Alfred Tennyson
A storm was coming, but the winds were still,
And in the wild woods of Broceliande,
Before an oak, so hollow, huge and old
It looked a tower of ivied masonwork,
At Merlin's feet the wily Vivien lay.
The School-Boy
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
So ran my lines, as pen and paper met,
The truant goose-quill travelling like Planchette;
Too ready servant, whose deceitful ways
Full many a slipshod line, alas! betrays;
Hence of the rhyming thousand not a few
Have builded worse--a great deal--than they knew.
How does Love speak?
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
In the faint flush upon the tell-tale cheek,
And in the pallor that succeeds it; by
The quivering lid of an averted eye -
The smile that proves the parent of a sigh:
Thus doth Love speak.
Ode To Apollo
© John Keats
3.
Then, through thy Temple wide, melodious swells
The sweet majestic tone of Maro's lyre:
The soul delighted on each accent dwells,--
Enraptur'd dwells,--not daring to respire,
The while he tells of grief around a funeral pyre.
A Sylvan Scene
© Theocritus
I shall not go thither,
Here are oaks, here is the galingale,
Here bees hum sweetly around their hives;
Here are two springs of coolest water,
