War poems

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A Song Of "Twenty-Nine"

© Oliver Wendell Holmes

THE summer dawn is breaking

On Auburn's tangled bowers,

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Sonnet XXII

© William Shakespeare

My glass shall not persuade me I am old,
So long as youth and thou are of one date;
But when in thee time's furrows I behold,
Then look I death my days should expiate.

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With Esther

© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt

HE who has once been happy is for aye

  Out of destruction's reach. His fortune then

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The Pastoral Letter

© John Greenleaf Whittier

So, this is all, — the utmost reach
Of priestly power the mind to fetter!
When laymen think, when women preach,
A war of words, a "Pastoral Letter!"

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Sketches In The Exhibition

© William Lisle Bowles

  How clear a strife of light and shade is spread!
  The face how touched with nature's loveliest red!
  The eye, how eloquent, and yet how meek!
  The glow subdued, yet mantling on thy cheek!
  M----ve! I mark alone thy beauteous face,
  But all is nature, dignity, and grace!

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Sonnet XLVIII

© William Shakespeare

How careful was I, when I took my way,
Each trifle under truest bars to thrust,
That to my use it might unused stay
From hands of falsehood, in sure wards of trust!

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The Two Swans (A Fairy Tale)

© Thomas Hood

I
Immortal Imogen, crown'd queen above
The lilies of thy sex, vouchsafe to hear
A fairy dream in honor of true love—

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Moeurs Contemporaines

© Ezra Pound

And by her left foot, in a basket,
Is an infant, aged about 14 months,
The infant beams at the parent,
The parent re-beams at its offspring.
The basket is lined with satin,
There is a satin-like bow on the harp.

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A Book Of Strife In The Form Of The Diary Of An Old Soul - June

© George MacDonald

1.

FROM thine, as then, the healing virtue goes

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The Two Graves

© William Cullen Bryant

  Two low green hillocks, two small gray stones,
Rose over the place that held their bones;
But the grassy hillocks are levelled again,
And the keenest eye might search in vain,
'Mong briers, and ferns, and paths of sheep,
For the spot where the aged couple sleep.

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Sonnet LXXI

© William Shakespeare

No longer mourn for me when I am dead
Then you shall hear the surly sullen bell
Give warning to the world that I am fled
From this vile world, with vilest worms to dwell:

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The American Forest Girl

© Felicia Dorothea Hemans

They loos'd the bonds that held their captive's breath;
From his pale lips they took the cup of death;
They quench'd the brand beneath the cypress tree;
"Away," they cried, "young stranger, thou art free!"

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Sonnet LII

© William Shakespeare

So am I as the rich, whose blessed key
Can bring him to his sweet up-locked treasure,
The which he will not every hour survey,
For blunting the fine point of seldom pleasure.

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Sonnet II

© William Shakespeare

When forty winters shall beseige thy brow,
And dig deep trenches in thy beauty's field,
Thy youth's proud livery, so gazed on now,
Will be a tatter'd weed, of small worth held:

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Artegal And Elidure

© William Wordsworth

WHERE be the temples which, in Britain's Isle,

For his paternal Gods, the Trojan raised?

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Sonnet CXXXIII

© William Shakespeare

Beshrew that heart that makes my heart to groan
For that deep wound it gives my friend and me!
Is't not enough to torture me alone,
But slave to slavery my sweet'st friend must be?

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Fragment IX

© James Macpherson

Conar was mighty in war. Caul
was the friend of strangers. His gates
were open to all; midnight darkened
not on his barred door. Both lived upon
the sons of the mountains. Their bow
was the support of the poor.

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The Ghost - Book II

© Charles Churchill

A sacred standard rule we find,

By poets held time out of mind,

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The Shepherd's Calendar - September

© John Clare

Harvest awakes the morning still

And toils rude groups the valleys fill

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The Epic Of The Lion

© Victor Marie Hugo

A Lion in his jaws caught up a child--

Not harming it--and to the woodland, wild