War poems

/ page 249 of 504 /

Order by :

1
. . .
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
. . .
504

The Fairy Thorn-Tree

© Dora Sigerson Shorter

And so, 'tis said, if to that fairy thorn-tree
You dare to go, you see her ghost so lone,
She prays for love of her that you will aid her,
And give your soul to buy her back her own.

Adventure

© Alice Guerin Crist

We found one evening, in the scrub,
a road the timber-getters made,
a winding, dim, mysterious track,
and we raced down it, half afraid.

Sonnet 48: How careful was I, when I took my way

© William Shakespeare

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

The Destiny Of Nations. A Vision.

Auspicious Reverence! Hush all meaner song,
Ere we the deep preluding strain have poured
To the Great Father, only Rightful King,
Eternal Father! King Omnipotent!
To the Will Absolute, the One, the Good!
The I AM, the Word, the Life, the Living God!

Perpetual Winter Never Known

© David Gascoyne

When the light falls on winter evenings

And the river makes no sound in its passing

Sonnet 25: Let those who are in favour with their stars

© William Shakespeare

Let those who are in favour with their stars
Of public honour and proud titles boast,
Whilst I, whom fortune of such triumph bars,
Unlooked for joy in that I honour most.

Sonnet 22: My glass shall not persuade me I am old

© 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.

The Woods Of Westermain

© George Meredith

I

Enter these enchanted woods,

Sonnet 2: When forty winters shall besiege thy brow

© William Shakespeare

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

White Night

© Boris Pasternak

I keep thinking of times that are long past,
Of a house in the Petersburg Quarter.
You had come from the steppeland Kursk Province,
Of a none-too-rich mother the daughter.

Santa Christina

© Robert Laurence Binyon

At Tiro, in her father's tower,
The young Cristina had her bower,
Over blue Bolsena's lake,
Where small frolic ripples break

I Dug And Dug Amongst The Snow

© Christina Georgina Rossetti

I dug and dug amongst the snow,

And thought the flowers would never grow;

Sonnet 150: O from what power hast thou this powerful might

© William Shakespeare

O, from what power hast thou this powerful might
With insufficiency my heart to sway?
To make me give the lie to my true sight,
And swear that brightness doth not grace the day?

The Century Of Garibaldi

That aim, albeit they were of minds diverse,
Conjoined them, not to strive without surcease;
For them could be no babblement of peace
While lay their country under Slavery's curse.

The Vain Question

Why should we court the storms that rave and rend,
Safe at our household hearth?
Why, starved and naked, without home or friend,
Unknowing whence we came or where we wend,
Follow from no beginning to no end
An uncrowned martyr's path?

A Vision of Poesy - Part 01

© Henry Timrod

In a far country, and a distant age,
Ere sprites and fays had bade farewell to earth,
A boy was born of humble parentage;
The stars that shone upon his lonely birth
Did seem to promise sovereignty and fame -
Yet no tradition hath preserved his name.

The Canoe

My masters twain made me a bed

Of pine-boughs resinous, and cedar;

The Culprit Fay

His sides are broken by spots of shade,
By the walnut bough and the cedar made,
And through their clustering branches dark
Glimmers and dies the fire-fly's spark -
Like starry twinkles that momently break
Through the rifts of the gathering tempest's rack.