War poems
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To Anna
© Amelia Opie
This faded lip may oft to thee
As gay a smile, my Anna, wear,
As when in youth, from sorrow free,
I only shed the transient tear.
The Promise
© Katharine Tynan
To you and you it shall be given,
As unto Mary her lost Heaven;
Her Son and your son come
Alive out of the grave and gloom.
An Ode To Fortune
© Eugene Field
O Lady Fortune! 't is to thee I call,
Dwelling at Antium, thou hast power to crown
The Talking Oak
© Alfred Tennyson
Once more the gate behind me falls;
Once more before my face
I see the moulder'd Abbey-walls,
That stand within the chace.
The Four Seasons : Winter
© James Thomson
See, Winter comes, to rule the varied year,
Sullen and sad, with all his rising train;
Vapours, and clouds, and storms. Be these my theme,
These! that exalt the soul to solemn thought,
To The Sub-Prior
© Sir Walter Scott
Men of good are bold as sackless
Men of rude are wild and reckless,
Lie thou still
In the nook of the hill.
For those be before thee that wish thee ill.
The House Of Dust: Part 03: 04:
© Conrad Aiken
She played this tune. And in the middle of it
Abruptly broke it off, letting her hands
Fall in her lap. She sat there so a moment,
With shoulders drooped, then lifted up a rose,
One great white rose, wide opened like a lotos,
And pressed it to her cheek, and closed her eyes.
Breitmann In Holland. Scheveningen, Or De Maidens Coorse
© Charles Godfrey Leland
HET vas Mijn Heer van Torenborg,
Ride oud oopon de sand,
Und vait to hear a paardeken;
Coom tromplin from de land.
Prologue To Tancred And Sigismunda
© James Thomson
Bold is the man! who, in this nicer age,
Presumes to tread the chaste corrected stage.
Now, with gay tinsel arts, we can no more
Conceal the want of Nature's sterling ore.
The Triumphs Of Philamore And Amoret. To The Noblest Of Our
© Richard Lovelace
Sir, your sad absence I complain, as earth
Her long-hid spring, that gave her verdures birth,
Who now her cheerful aromatick head
Shrinks in her cold and dismal widow'd bed;
Whilst the false sun her lover doth him move
Below, and to th' antipodes make love.
Fauconshawe
© Adam Lindsay Gordon
To fetch clear water out of the spring
The little maid Margaret ran;
From the stream to the castle's western wing
It was but a bowshot span;
On the sedgy brink where the osiers cling
Lay a dead man, pallid and wan.
The Danish Boy
© William Wordsworth
I
BETWEEN two sister moorland rills
There is a spot that seems to lie
Sacred to flowerets of the hills,
Contrition
© George MacDonald
Out of the gulf into the glory,
Father, my soul cries out to be lifted.
Dark is the woof of my dismal story,
Thorough thy sun-warp stormily drifted!-
Out of the gulf into the glory,
Lift me, and save my story.
Two
© Madison Julius Cawein
With her soft face half turned to me,
Like an arrested moonbeam, she
Stood in the cirque of that deep tree.
Eagle: [Sas]
© Attila Jozsef
Eagle, gigantic, diving
heaven's echoey precipices!
What winged thing's this, arriving
from voids and nothingnesses!
To K.M.D.
© James Clerk Maxwell
In the buds, before they burst,
Leaves and flowers are moulded;
Closely pressed they lie at first,
Exquisitely folded.
Aerophorion
© Henry James Pye
When bold Ambition tempts the ingenuous mind
To leave the beaten paths of life behind,
To the Nightingale
© Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Sister of love-lorn Poets, Philomel!
How many Bards in city garret pent,
