War poems
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Sursum Cor!
© Robert Laurence Binyon
Lament no more, my heart, lament no more,
Though all these clouds have covered up the light,
And thou, so far from shore,
Art baffled in mid flight;
Beachy Head
© Charlotte Turner Smith
ON thy stupendous summit, rock sublime !
That o'er the channel rear'd, half way at sea
A Song Of Despair
© Pablo Neruda
The memory of you emerges from the night around me.
The river mingles its stubborn lament with the sea.Deserted like the dwarves at dawn.
It is the hour of departure, oh deserted one!Cold flower heads are raining over my heart.
Oh pit of debris, fierce cave of the shipwrecked.In you the wars and the flights accumulated.
Walking Around
© Pablo Neruda
It so happens I am sick of being a man.
And it happens that I walk into tailorshops and movie
houses
dried up, waterproof, like a swan made of felt
steering my way in a water of wombs and ashes.
Castles In Spain. (Birds Of Passage. Flight The Fifth)
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
How much of my young heart, O Spain,
Went out to thee in days of yore!
What dreams romantic filled my brain,
And summoned back to life again
The Paladins of Charlemagne,
The Cid Campeador!
Vision Of Columbus - Book 1
© Joel Barlow
Oh, lend thy friendly shroud to veil my sight,
That these pain'd eyes may dread no more the light,
These welcome shades conclude my instant doom,
And this drear mansion moulder to a tomb
Sonnet: O Poverty! Though From Thy Haggard Eye
© William Lisle Bowles
O, Poverty! though from thy haggard eye,
Thy cheerless mien, of every charm bereft,
Thy brow that Hope's last traces long have left,
Vain Fortune's feeble sons with terror fly;
Elegy For My Father
© Annie Finch
Bequeath us to no earthly shore until
Is answered in the vortex of our grave
The seals wide spindrift gaze towards paradise.
Hart Crane, Voyages
A Valentine For Hands
© Annie Finch
names, silencequietest minutes
(building like rain or returning like seas)
since they have touched me, your warm hands have sown
gentlest sounds, touches and hours
(or, building like rain, turning, like seas)
Memorials Of A Tour In Scotland, 1803
© William Wordsworth
Now we are tired of boisterous joy,
Have romped enough, my little Boy!
Jane hangs her head upon my breast,
And you shall bring your stool and rest;
This corner is your own.
Ode to Himself upon the Censure of his New Inn
© Benjamin Jonson
Come, leave the loathed stage,
And the more loathsome age;
Where pride and impudence, in faction knit,
Usurp the chair of wit!
The Missionary - Canto Third
© William Lisle Bowles
Come,--for the sun yet hangs above the bay,--
And whilst our time may brook a brief delay
After Cattle
© Roderic Quinn
WE lit a fire, and straightway camped,
And all night long
We heard the river sing its song.
Our horses fed, and neighed, and stamped;
Beecham's Pills
© William Topaz McGonagall
What ho! sickly people of high and low degree
I pray ye all be warned by me;
No matter what may be your bodily ills
The safest and quickest cure is Beecham's Pills.
The Kiss
© Julia Caroline (Ripley) Dorr
When you lay before me dead,
In such pallid rest,
On those passive lips of thine
Not one kiss I pressed!
The Snowdrop
© Mary Darby Robinson
The snowdrop, Winter's timid child,
Awakes to life, bedew'd with tears;
And flings around its fragrance mild,
And where no rival flow'rets bloom,
Amid the bare and chilling gloom,
A beauteous gem appears!
Tamara
© Mikhail Lermontov
Where waves of the Terek are waltzing
In Dariel's wickedest pass,
There rises from bleakest of storm crags
An ancient grey towering mass.
To The Memory Of My Beloved, The Author, Mr William Shakespeare, And What He Hath Left Us
© Benjamin Jonson
To draw no envy, Shakespeare, on thy name
Am I thus ample to thy book and fame;
While I confess thy writings to be such
As neither Man nor Muse can praise too much.
