War poems

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Her Portrait

© Francis Thompson

Oh, but the heavenly grammar did I hold

Of that high speech which angels' tongues turn gold!

Andrew Jackson

© Julia A Moore

On the life of Andrew Jackson,

Now dear people I will write,

Henry And Emma. A Poem.

© Matthew Prior

Where beauteous Isis and her husband Thame
With mingled waves for ever flow the same,
In times of yore an ancient baron lived,
Great gifts bestowed, and great respect received.

Wintering

© Sylvia Plath

This is the easy time, there is nothing doing.
I have whirled the midwife's extractor,
I have my honey,
Six jars of it,
Six cat's eyes in the wine cellar,

The Sun Hath Twice

© Henry Howard

The sun hath twice brought forth the tender green,

And clad the earth in lively lustiness;

"Every planet above, and every star"

Venus beauty too, and gentleness,
Mercury eloquence, but then the moon
Made him too cold for me, in iciness.
Each of these graces, each rare boon,
Make me burn for his fierce brightness,
And yet he freezes, through that one alone.

Paracelsus: Part II: Paracelsus Attains

© Robert Browning

Ay, my brave chronicler, and this same hour
As well as any: now, let my time be!

A Hero Gone

© John Greenleaf Whittier

He has done the work of a true man--
Crown him, honor him, love him;
Weep over him, tears of woman,
Stoop, manliest brows, above him!

The Old Camp Fire

© Francis Bret Harte

Now shift the blanket pad before your saddle back you fling,
And draw your cinch up tighter till the sweat drops from the ring:
We've a dozen miles to cover ere we reach the next divide.
Our limbs are stiffer now than when we first set out to ride,
And worse, the horses know it, and feel the leg-grip tire,
Since in the days when, long ago, we sought the old camp-fire.

The Angel In The House. Book II. Canto VII.

© Coventry Kersey Dighton Patmore

Preludes.

I Joy and Use

The Ideal

© Frances Anne Kemble

Thou shalt behold it once, and once believe

Thou may'st possess itLove shall make the dream,

The Pastime of Pleasure: Of dysposycyon the II. parte of rethoryke - (til line 1456)

© Stephen Hawes

The seconde parte of crafty rethoryke
Maye well be called dysposycyon
822 That doth so hyghe mater aromatytyke
823 Adowne dystyll / by consolacyon

Addressed To Miss Macartney, Afterwards Mrs. Greville, On Reading The Prayer For Indifference

And dwells there in a female heart,
By bounteous heaven design'd
The choicest raptures to impact,
To feel the most refined;

Satyr X. Colin

Divine Orinda now my labours crown
& if my voice or harp have glory won
Thine was the influence thine the glory be
Thee Colin loves & loves thy sex for thee

Maha-Bharata, The Epic Of Ancient India - Conclusion

The real Epic ends with the war and with the funerals of the deceased
warriors, as we have stated before, and Yudhishthir's Horse-Sacrifice
is rather a crowning ornament than a part of the solid edifice. What
follows the sacrifice is in no sense a part of the real Epic; it
consists merely of concluding personal narratives of the heroes who
have figured in the poem.