War poems
/ page 191 of 504 /
Freedoms
© Gerald Gould
To every hill there is a lowly slope,
But some have heights beyond all height--so high
They make new worlds for the adventuring eye.
We for achievement have forgone our hope,
And shall not see another morning ope,
Nor the new moon come into the new sky.
Come to Me, Sunbeam! I'm Dying
© Henry Clay Work
Come to me, Sunbeam! I'm dying
Uncared for, distress'd and alone.
To Rutherford Birchard Hayes
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
How to address him? awkward, it is true
Call him "Great Father," as the Red Men do?
Borrow some title? this is not the place
That christens men Your Highness and Your Grace;
We tried such names as these awhile, you know,
But left them off a century ago.
A Session With Uncle Sidney
© James Whitcomb Riley
Uncle Sidney's vurry proud
Of little Leslie-Janey,
'Cause she's so smart, an' goes to school
Clean 'way in Pennsylvany!
The Loving Tree
© John Shaw Neilson
Three women walked upon a road,
And the first said airily,
Of all the trees in all the world
Which is the loving tree?
A Catch
© Madison Julius Cawein
When roads are mired with ice and snow,
And the air of morn is crisp with rime;
Polyhymnia
© George Peele
Therefore, when thirtie two were come and gone,
Years of her raigne, daies of her countries peace,
Elizabeth great Empresse of the world,
Britanias Atlas, Star of Englands globe,
At The Banquet To The Grand Duke Alexis
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
ONE word to the guest we have gathered to greet!
The echoes are longing that word to repeat,--
It springs to the lips that are waiting to part,
For its syllables spell themselves first in the heart.
Quatrains
© Madison Julius Cawein
Above his misered embers, gnarled and gray,
With toil-twitched limbs he bends; around his hut,
Want, like a hobbling hag, goes night and day,
Scolding at windows and at doors tight-shut.
Conversation
© William Cowper
Though nature weigh our talents, and dispense
To every man his modicum of sense,
A War Wedding
© John Jay Chapman
THE dreamy earth is flooded o'er
With warm and hazy light,
September's latest boon, before
She feels the hoar frost in the night;
And, pausing with a sober frown,
Nips the first floweret from her summer crown.
Pippa Passes: Part II: Noon
© Robert Browning
You by me,
And I by you; this is your hand in mine,
And side by side we sit: all's true. Thank God!
I have spoken: speak you!
The Song Of The Cicadas
© Roderic Quinn
Green Cicadas, Black cicadas,
happy in the gracious weather
Floury-bakers, double-drummers
all as one and all together--
how they voice the bygone summers!
Scene In A Country Hospital
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
HERE, lonely, wounded and apart,
From out my casement's glimmering round,
I watch the wayward bluebirds dart
Across yon flowery ground;
How sweet the prospect! and how fair
The balmy peace of earth and air.
L'Horloge (The Clock)
© Charles Baudelaire
Horloge! dieu sinistre, effrayant, impassible,
Dont le doigt nous menace et nous dit: «Souviens-toi!
Les vibrantes Douleurs dans ton coeur plein d'effroi
Se planteront bientôt comme dans une cible;
Marguerite
© John Greenleaf Whittier
What to her was the song of the robin, or warm
morning light,
As she lay in the trance of the dying, heedless of
sound or sight?
