War poems
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Metamorphoses: Book The Eighth
© Ovid
The End of the Eighth Book.
Translated into English verse under the direction of
Sir Samuel Garth by John Dryden, Alexander Pope, Joseph Addison,
William Congreve and other eminent hands
Stain Not The Sky
© Henry Van Dyke
Ye gods of battle, lords of fear,
Who work your iron will as well
Laurance - [Part 2]
© Jean Ingelow
Then looking hard upon her, came to him
The power to feel and to perceive. Her teeth
Chattered, and all her limbs with shuddering failed,
And in her threadbare shawl was wrapped a child
That looked on him with wondering, wistful eyes.
Sappho II
© Sara Teasdale
Oh Litis, little slave, why will you sleep?
These long Egyptian noons bend down your head
Bowed like the yarrow with a yellow bee.
There, lift your eyes no man has ever kindled,
The Hollow
© Madison Julius Cawein
Fleet swallows soared and darted
'Neath empty vaults of blue;
Thick leaves close clung or parted
To let the sunlight through;
Each wild rose, honey-hearted,
Bowed full of living dew.
To Lady Beaumont
© William Wordsworth
LADY! the songs of Spring were in the grove
While I was shaping beds for winter flowers;
The Big Black Trawler
© Alfred Noyes
THE very best ship that ever I knew
-Ah-way O, to me O-
Was a big black trawler with a deep-sea crew-
Sing, my bullies, let the bullgine run.
Cicely
© Francis Bret Harte
Cicely says you're a poet; maybe,--I ain't much on rhyme:
I reckon you'd give me a hundred, and beat me every time.
Poetry!--that's the way some chaps puts up an idee,
But I takes mine "straight without sugar," and that's what's the matter with me.
Dedication - The Poems Of Goeth
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
By new-born flow'rs that full of dew-drops hung;
The youthful day awoke with ecstacy,
And all things quicken'd were, to quicken me.
Ye Wearie Wayfarer [A Dedication to the author of Holmby House"
© Adam Lindsay Gordon
Fytte I
By Wood and Wold
[A Preamble]
The Choice Of Sweet Shy Clare
© Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
Fair as a wreath of fresh spring flowers, a band of maidens lay
On the velvet swardenjoying the golden summer day;
And many a ringing silvry laugh on the calm air clearly fell,
With fancies sweet, which their rosy lips, half unwilling, seemed to tell.
a Shaft Of Bees
© Victor Marie Hugo
Amber as a tale, more amber than landlord
Everlasting as an auto-da-fe, more everlasting than raft
Travelled as an air, more travelled than breeze
Dateless as a wing, more dateless than cup
The Warden Of The Cinque Ports. (Birds Of Passage. Flight The First)
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
A mist was driving down the British Channel,
The day was just begun,
And through the window-panes, on floor and panel,
Streamed the red autumn sun.
I Did Not Know
© Margaret Widdemer
I DID not know that I should miss you,
So silver-soft your loving came,
There were no trumpets down the dawning,
There were no leaping tides of flame . . .
To The Sun
© Ingeborg Bachmann
More beatiful than the remarkable moon and her noble light,
More beautiful than the stars, the famous medals of the night,
More beautiful than the fiery entrance a comet makes,
And called to a part far more splendid than any other planet's
Because daily your life and my life depend on it, is the sun.
The Soldier's Christmas Eve
© Anonymous
In a southern forest gloomy and old,
So lately the scene of a terrible fight,
The Rape Of Lucrece
© William Shakespeare
TO THE
RIGHT HONORABLE HENRY WRIOTHESLY,
Earl of Southampton, and Baron of Tichfield.
