War poems
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Insects In Summer
© James Thomson
Waked by his warmer ray, the reptile young
Came wing'd abroad; by the light air upborne
Lighter, and full of soul. From every chink
And secret corner, where they slept away
Songs of the Spring Nights
© George MacDonald
The flush of green that dyed the day
Hath vanished in the moon;
Flower-scents float stronger out, and play
An unborn, coming tune.
On Cutting Down The Thorn At Market-Hill
© Jonathan Swift
At Market-Hill, as well appears
By chronicle of ancient date,
There stood for many hundred years
A spacious thorn before the gate.
Emily Bronte
© Robert Seymour Bridges
Thou hadst all Passion's splendor,
Thou hadst abounding store
Of heaven's eternal jewels,
Beloved; what wouldst thou more?
AN ELEGY Upon the death of Mr. Edward Holt
© Henry King
VVhether thy Fathers, or diseases rage,
More mortal prov'd to thy unhappy age,
Our sorrow needs not question; since the first
Is known for length and sharpness much the worst.
To Edward Dowden: On Receiving From Him A Copy Of "The Life Of Shelley"
© William Watson
First, ere I slake my hunger, let me thank
The giver of the feast. For feast it is,
Isabella; Or, The Pot Of Basil: A Story From Boccaccio
© John Keats
I.
Fair Isabel, poor simple Isabel!
The Tamarisk Hedge
© Robert Laurence Binyon
I know that there are slumbrous woods beyond
On islands of white marges, where the tide
Hope Is Not For The Wise
© Robinson Jeffers
Hope is not for the wise, fear is for fools;
Change and the world, we think, are racing to a fall,
Upon Phillis Walking In A Morning Before Sun-rising
© John Cleveland
THE sluggish morne as yet undrest,
My Phillis brake from out her East;
Bride Song (From 'The Prince's Progress')
© Christina Georgina Rossetti
Too late for love, too late for joy,
Too late, too late!
Next Of Kin
© Edgar Albert Guest
I notice when the news comes in
Of one who's claimed eternal glory,
Winter
© Samuel Johnson
No more the morn with tepid rays
Unfolds the flower of various hue;
Noon spreads no more the genial blaze,
Nor gentle eve distills the dew.
A Letter to Her Husband, Absent upon Public Employment
© Anne Bradstreet
My head, my heart, mine eyes, my life, nay, more,
My joy, my magazine of earthly store, storehouse
Preparatory Meditations - Second Series: 12
© Edward Taylor
Dull, dull indeed! What, shall it e'er be thus?
And why? Are not Thy promises, my Lord,
Rich, quick'ning things? How should my full cheeks blush
To find me thus? And those a lifeless word?
My heart is heedless: unconcerned hereat:
I find my spirits spiritless and flat.
The Surgeon At 2 A.M.
© Sylvia Plath
The white light is artificial, and hygienic as heaven.
The microbes cannot survive it.
Jump-To-Glory Jane
© George Meredith
A revelation came on Jane,
The widow of a labouring swain:
And first her body trembled sharp,
Then all the woman was a harp
With winds along the strings; she heard,
Though there was neither tone nor word.
Snow in Europe
© David Gascoyne
Out of their slumber Europeans spun
Dense dreams: appeasements, miracle, glimpsed flash
Of a new golden era; but could not restrain
The vertical white weight that fell last night
And made their continent a blank.
Children in a Field by Angela Shaw: American Life in Poetry #27 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate 2004-
© Ted Kooser
In this lovely poem by Angela Shaw, who lives in Pennsylvania, we hear a voice of wise counsel: Let the young go, let them do as they will, and admire their grace and beauty as they pass from us into the future.
Children in a Field
