War poems
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To The City Of Bombay
© Rudyard Kipling
The Cities are full of pride,
Challenging each to each -
This from her mountain-side,
That from her burthened beach.
The Golden Gallery At Saint Pauls
© Robert Laurence Binyon
The Golden Gallery lifts its aery crown
O'er dome and pinnacle: there I leaned and gazed.
Is this indeed my own familiar town,
This busy dream? Beneath me spreading hazed
When You Wake In Your Crib
© William Ernest Henley
When you wake in your crib,
You, an inch of experience -
A Miller, His Son, And Their Ass
© Anne Kingsmill Finch
THO' to Antiquity the Praise we yield
Of pleasing Arts; and Fable's earli'st Field
Own to be fruitful Greece; yet not so clean
Those Ears were reap'd, but still there's some to glean;
And from the Lands of vast Invention come
Daily new Authors, with Discov'ries home.
A Lover's Complaint
© William Shakespeare
FROM off a hill whose concave womb reworded
A plaintful story from a sistering vale,
My spirits to attend this double voice accorded,
And down I laid to list the sad-tuned tale;
Yin Yang
© Belinda Subraman
At the edge of winter
in crisp early March
a dull thud of numbness
delays joy and sadness
Beauty.
© Robert Crawford
He came upon her with a soul athirst
For Beauty, and she unveiled all to him,
As if in an imaginary light
Revealing all her wondrous rarity,
Aethra
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
It is a sweet tradition, with a soul
Of tenderest pathos! Hearken, love!-for all
Sordello: Book the Third
© Robert Browning
Whereat he rose.
The level wind carried above the firs
Clouds, the irrevocable travellers,
Onward.
Metropolitan Nightmare
© Stephen Vincent Benet
Until, one day, a somnolent city-editor
Gave a new cub the termite yarn to break his teeth on.
The cub was just down from Vermont, so he took the time.
He was serious about it. He went around.
He read all about termites in the Public Library
And it made him sore when they fired him.
I Saw, Or Dreamed I Saw
© Henry Timrod
I saw, or dreamed I saw, her sitting lone,
Her neck bent like a swan's, her brown eyes thrown
he and the hilltown
© Rg Gregory
when they look into his mind they find a hill town
somewhat surprised they go off to their learned books
outside (architecturally) hed seems a little wind-blown
not special a common sort of shackman by his looks
eight roundels
© Rg Gregory
(roundel: variation of the rondeau
consisting of three stanzas of three
lines each, linked together with but
two rhymes and a refrain at the end
of the first and third group)
Lake Leman
© Harold Monro
It is the sacred hour: above the far
Low emerald hills that northward fold,
Paradise Lost : Book II.
© John Milton
High on a throne of royal state, which far
Outshone the wealth or Ormus and of Ind,
A March Minstrel
© Alfred Austin
Hail! once again, that sweet strong note!
Loud on my loftiest larch,
Thou quaverest with thy mottled throat,
Brave minstrel of bleak March!
The Mulberry Tree
© James Whitcomb Riley
It's many's the scenes which is dear to my mind
As I think of my childhood so long left behind;
two thursdays
© Rg Gregory
when the doctor came on a monday
he looked at my mother and said
there's something seriously wrong here -
she's had a stroke - she's almost dead
Aspiring Miss DeLaine
© Francis Bret Harte
(A CHEMICAL NARRATIVE)
Certain facts which serve to explain
two spanish poems
© Rg Gregory
the sun in orihuela calms the dust
and people glide about the streets at ease
(problems left indoors to cool themselves)
time has grown fat and no one cares
to pin each minute to its proper place
the day is long tomorrow's not yet real
