War poems
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Sonnet XLI. George Ripley
© Christopher Pearse Cranch
WARM, generous and young in heart and brain,
A wise, ripe scholar of the antique mould,
Had he but chosen he might have enrolled
His name among philosophers who gain
The Prophecy Of Capys
© Thomas Babbington Macaulay
X.
So marched they along the lake;
They marched by fold and stall,
By cornfield and by vineyard,
Unto the old man's hall.
Pharsalia - Book I: The Crossing Of The Rubicon
© Marcus Annaeus Lucanus
First of such deeds I purpose to unfold
The causes - task immense - what drove to arms
A maddened nation, and from all the world
Struck peace away.
Sister Jones's Confession
© James Whitcomb Riley
I thought the deacon liked me, yit
I warn't adzackly shore of it--
Sonnet XVI. To Earl Stanhope
© Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Not, Stanhope! with the Patriot's doubtful name
I mock thy worth -- Friend of the human race
Since scorning Faction's low and partial aim,
Aloof thou wendest in thy stately pace,
The Lady's Dream
© Thomas Hood
The lady lay in her bed,
Her couch so warm and soft,
But her sleep was restless and broken still;
For turning often and oft
From side to side, she mutter'd and moan'd,
And toss'd her arms aloft.
The Belated Swallow
© Mary Hannay Foott
Belated swallow, whither flying?
The day is dead, the light is dying,
Ode
© William Wordsworth
I
IMAGINATION--ne'er before content,
But aye ascending, restless in her pride
From all that martial feats could yield
Sunny Days In Winter
© Denis Florence MacCarthy
Summer is a glorious season
Warm, and bright, and pleasant;
Hard Weather
© George Meredith
Bursts from a rending East in flaws
The young green leaflet's harrier, sworn
Warning And Reply
© Emily Jane Brontë
In the earth-the earth-thou shalt be laid,
A grey stone standing over thee;
Black mould beneath thee spread,
And black mould to cover thee.
Worship
© Jones Very
There is no worship now,the idol stands
Within the spirit's holy resting place!
The Phantom Fleet
© Alfred Noyes
The sunset lingered in the pale green West:
In rosy wastes the low soft evening star
Woke; while the last white sea-mew sought for rest;
And tawny sails came stealing o'er the bar.
Prosopopoia : or, Mother Hubbards Tale
© Edmund Spenser
Yet he the name on him would rashly take,
Maugre the sacred Muses, and it make
A servant to the vile affection
Of such, as he depended most upon;
And with the sugrie sweete thereof allure
Chast Ladies eares to fantasies impure.
The Artilleryman's Vision
© Walt Whitman
While my wife at my side lies slumbering, and the wars are over long,
And my head on the pillow rests at home, and the vacant midnight passes,
Sunday After Ascension
© John Keble
The Earth that in her genial breast
Makes for the down a kindly nest,
Where wafted by the warm south-west
It floats at pleasure,
Yields, thankful, of her very best,
To nurse her treasure:
Tales Of A Wayside Inn : Part. 1. The Musician's Tale; The Saga of King Olaf VI. -- The Wraith Of Od
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The guests were loud, the ale was strong,
King Olaf feasted late and long;
The hoary Scalds together sang;
O'erhead the smoky rafters rang.
Dead rides Sir Morten of Fogelsang.
