War poems
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Moonset
© Sir Henry Newbolt
Past seven o'clock: time to be gone;
Twelfth-night's over and dawn shivering up:
A hasty cut of the loaf, a steaming cup,
Down to the door, and there is Coachman John.
Carolan's Prophecy
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
Of bridal melody, soon dash'd with grief,
As if some wailing spirit in the strings
Met and o'ermaster'd him: but yielding then
To the strong prophet-impulse, mournfully,
Like moaning waters o'er the harp he pour'd
The trouble of his haunted soul, and sangâ
On A Summers Day
© Hayyim Nahman Bialik
When high noon on a summers day
makes the sky a fiery furnace
and the heart seeks a quiet corner for dreams,
then come to me, my weary friend.
O Navio Negreiro part 5 (With English Translation)
© Antonio de Castro Alves
Senhor Deus dos desgraçados!
Dizei-me vós, Senhor Deus!
At The Gate Of The Convent
© Alfred Austin
Beside the Convent Gate I stood,
Lingering to take farewell of those
To whom I owed the simple good
Of three days' peace, three nights' repose.
Laus Mortis
© Arthur Symons
I bring to thee, for love, white roses, delicate Death!
White lilies of the valley, dropping gentle tears,
A Manchester Poem
© George MacDonald
'Tis a poor drizzly morning, dark and sad.
The cloud has fallen, and filled with fold on fold
The chimneyed city; and the smoke is caught,
And spreads diluted in the cloud, and sinks,
A black precipitate, on miry streets.
And faces gray glide through the darkened fog.
The Wisdom Of Merlyn
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
These are the time--words of Merlyn, the voice of his age recorded,
All his wisdom of life, the fruit of tears in his youth, of joy in his manhood hoarded,
All the wit of his years unsealed, to the witless alms awarded.
Youth And Age
© Denis Florence MacCarthy
To give the blossom and the fruit
The soft warm air that wraps them round,
Oh! think how long the toilsome root
Must live and labour 'neath the ground.
Kings Chapel
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
Is it a weanling's weakness for the past
That in the stormy, rebel-breeding town,
Swept clean of relics by the levelling blast,
Friar Pedro's Ride
© Francis Bret Harte
It was the morning season of the year;
It was the morning era of the land;
No Time Like The Old Time
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
THERE is no time like the old time, when you and I were young,
When the buds of April blossomed, and the birds of spring-time sung!
The garden's brightest glories by summer suns are nursed,
But oh, the sweet, sweet violets, the flowers that opened first!
Geraldine
© Madison Julius Cawein
Ah, Geraldine, lost Geraldine,
That night of love, when first we met,
You have forgotten, Geraldine--
I never dreamed you would forget.
To Thyrza
© George Gordon Byron
Without a stone to mark the spot,
And say, what Truth might well have said,
By all, save one, perchance forgot,
Ah! wherefore art thou lowly laid?
Address To Certain Golfishes
© Hartley Coleridge
RESTLESS forms of living light
Quivering on your lucid wings,
The Guides At Cabul
© Sir Henry Newbolt
Sons of the Island race, wherever ye dwell,
Who speak of your fathers' battles with lips that burn,
