War poems
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The Muses Threnodie: Third Muse
© Henry Adamson
These be the first memorials of a bridge,
Good Monsier, that we truely can alledge.
Thus spoke good Gall, and I did much rejoyce
To hear him these antiquities disclose;
Which I remembering now, of force must cry
Gall, sweetest Gall, what ailed thee to die?
The DreamHouse
© Robert Laurence Binyon
Often we talk of the house that we will build
For airier and less jostled days than these
We chafe in, and send Fancy roaming wide
Down western valleys with a choosing eye
Late Wisdom
© George Crabbe
We've trod the maze of error round,
Long wandering in the winding glade;
Introduction To The True-Born Englishman
© Daniel Defoe
Speak, satire; for there's none can tell like thee
Whether 'tis folly, pride, or knavery
Jaspers Song
© Marjorie Lowry Christie Pickthall
WHO goes down through the slim green sallows,
Soon, so soon ?
The Poet's Songs.
© Robert Crawford
The copse-wood merely sows
Itself, not planted;
And so it is with those
Strange and enchanted
Idyll II. The Sorceress
© Theocritus
Lady, farewell: turn ocean-ward thy steeds:
As I have purposed, so shall I fulfil.
Farewell, thou bright-faced Moon! Ye stars, farewell,
That wait upon the car of noiseless Night.
Seasonal Cycle - Chapter 02 - Rainy Season
© Kalidasa
"Oh, dear, now the kingly monsoon is onset with its clouds containing raindrops, as its ruttish elephants in its convoy, and with skyey flashes of lighting as its pennants and buntings, and with the thunders of thunderbolts as its percussive drumbeats, thus this rainy season has come to pass, radiately shining forth like a king, for the delight of voluptuous people…
"By far, the vault of heaven is overly impregnated with massive clouds, that are similar to the gleam of blackish petals of black-costuses… somewhere they are similar to the glitter of the heaps of well-kneaded blackish mascara… and elsewhere they glisten like the blackened nipples of bosoms of pregnant women, ready to rain the elixir of life on the lips of her offspring, when that offspring is actualised…
Our River
© John Greenleaf Whittier
FOR A SUMMER FESTIVAL AT "THE LAURELS" ON THE MERRIMAC.
Once more on yonder laurelled height
The Voyage To Vinland: Bioern's Beckoners
© James Russell Lowell
Looms there the New Land;
Locked in the shadow
Long the gods shut it,
Niggards of newness
They, the o'er-old.
A Souless Singer
© Alfred Austin
Hail! throstle, by thy ringing voice descried,
Not by the wanderings of the tuneless wing!
Now once again where forkëd boughs divide,
Lost in green leafage thou dost perch and sing:
Trilling, shrilling, far and wide,
``It is Spring.''
My Mother's Kiss
© Frances Ellen Watkins Harper
My mother's kiss, my mother's kiss,
I feel its impress now;
As in the bright and happy days
She pressed it on my brow.
"Lines. . ."
© Harriet Beecher Stowe
In the fair garden of celestial Peace
Walketh a Gardener in meekness clad;
Fair are the flowers that wreathe his dewy locks,
And his mysterious eyes are sweet and sad.
To My Younger Brother, On His Return From Spain, After The Fatal Retreat Under Sir John Moore, And T
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
THO' dark are the prospects and heavy the hours,
Tho' life is a desert, and cheerless the way;
Yet still shall affection adorn it with flow'rs,
Whose fragrance shall never decay!
The Creek of the Four Graves [Late Version]
© Charles Harpur
A settler in the olden times went forth
With four of his most bold and trusted men
The Sisters
© John Greenleaf Whittier
ANNIE and Rhoda, sisters twain,
Woke in the night to the sound of rain,
Her Muffe
© Richard Lovelace
I.
Twas not for some calm blessing to deceive,
Thou didst thy polish'd hands in shagg'd furs weave;
It were no blessing thus obtain'd;
Thou rather would'st a curse have gain'd,
Then let thy warm driven snow be ever stain'd.
The Task: Book IV. -- The Winter Evening
© William Cowper
Hark! tis the twanging horn oer yonder bridge,
That with its wearisome but needful length
Go Winter!
© James Whitcomb Riley
Go, Winter! Go thy ways! We want again
The twitter of the bluebird and the wren;
Leaves ever greener growing, and the shine
Of Summer's sun--not thine.--
