War poems
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The Skeleton Witness
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
ROOTED in soil dull as a dead man's eye,
Dank with decay, yon ghastly oak aspires,
As if in mockery, to the alien sky,
Frowning afar through clouded sunset fires.
The Challenge. (Birds Of Passage. Flight The Third)
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
I have a vague remembrance
Of a story, that is told
In some ancient Spanish legend
Or chronicle of old.
The Last Banquet Of Antony And Cleopatra
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
Thy foes had girt thee with their dead array,
O stately Alexandra! - yet the sound
The Creole Girl; Or, The Physicians Story
© Caroline Norton
SHE came to England from the island clime
Which lies beyond the far Atlantic wave;
She died in early youth--before her time--
"Peace to her broken heart, and virgin grave!"
II.
Old Mother Seward
© Anonymous
Old Mother Seward,
She went to the Lee-ward,
To get her dog a Union bone.
She got to Manassas,
And saw them harrass us -
Lord! how Mother Seward did groan.
Childe Harold's Pilgrimage: A Romaunt. Canto IV.
© George Gordon Byron
I.
I stood in Venice, on the Bridge of Sighs;
Elvir Hill (From The Old Danish)
© George Borrow
I rested my head upon Elvir Hills side, and my eyes were
beginning to slumber; That moment there rose up before me
two maids, whose charms would take ages to number.
War And Peace
© Franklin Pierce Adams
"This war is a terrible thing," he said,
"With its countless numbers of needless dead;
A futile warfare it seems to me,
Fought for no principle I can see.
Alas, that thousands of hearts should bleed
For naught but a tyrant's boundless greed!"
SONNET. I prethee turn that face away
© Henry King
I prethee turn that face away
Whose splendour but benights my day.
Sad eyes like mine, and wounded hearts
Shun the bright rayes which beauty darts.
The Palace of Art
© Alfred Tennyson
And "while the world runs round and round," I said,
"Reign thou apart, a quiet king,
Still as, while Saturn whirls, his steadfast shade
Sleeps on his luminous ring."
Meditation Sixty-Two
© Edward Taylor
Oh! thou, my Lord, thou king of Saints, here makst
A royall Banquet, thine to entertain
With rich and royall fare, Celestial Cates,
And sittest at the Table rich of fame.
Am I bid to this Feast? Sure Angells stare,
Such Rugged looks, and Ragged robes I ware.
To A Picture
© Frances Anne Kemble
Oh, serious eyes! how is it that the light,
The burning rays, that mine pour into ye,
Sincerity
© Mary Barber
Sincerity, what are thy Views;
No more my Breast attend.
By thee, alas! we often lose,
But seldom gain a Friend.
"The Laurels"
© John Greenleaf Whittier
FROM these wild rocks I look to-day
O'er leagues of dancing waves, and see
The far, low coast-line stretch away
To where our river meets the sea.
Commemorative Of A Naval Victory
© Herman Melville
Sailors there are of the gentlest breed,
Yet strong, like every goodly thing;
Fitz Adam's Story
© James Russell Lowell
The next whose fortune 'twas a tale to tell
Was one whom men, before they thought, loved well,
Sonnet To Byron
© John Keats
Byron! how sweetly sad thy melody!
Attuning still the soul to tenderness,
As if soft Pity, with unusual stress,
Had touch'd her plaintive lute, and thou, being by,
The Old Song
© Gilbert Keith Chesterton
I saw the kings of London town,
The kings that buy and sell,
That built it up with penny loaves
And penny lies as well:
The Boys' And Girls' Thanksgiving of 1892
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
Never since the race was started,
Had a boy in any clime,
Cause to be so thankful-hearted,
As the boys of present time.
