War poems
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Autumn Evening
© Viggo Stuckenberg
The sun has set. Around the tower creeps night's forest of darkness.
A Departure
© Rudyard Kipling
Since first the White Horse Banner blew free,
By Hengist's horde unfurled,
Coplas De Manrique (From The Spanish)
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
O let the soul her slumbers break,
Let thought be quickened, and awake;
Awake to see
How soon this life is past and gone,
And death comes softly stealing on,
How silently!
A Warning
© Heinrich Heine
You will print such books as these?
Then you're lost, my friend, that's certain.
If you wish for gold and honor,
Write more humblybend your knees!
Mater Amabilis
© Emma Lazarus
Down the goldenest of streams,
Tide of dreams,
The fair cradled man-child drifts;
Sways with cadenced motion slow,
To and fro,
As the mother-foot poised lightly, falls and lifts.
Angel Faces
© Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
I.
I SHALL not paint them. God them sees, and I:
No other can, nor need. They have no form,
I may not close with human kisses warm
Rural Sports: A Georgic - Canto II.
© John Gay
Now, sporting muse, draw in the flowing reins,
Leave the clear streams a while for sunny plains.
The Brus Book XVI
© John Barbour
[King Robert goes to Ireland]
Quhen Schyr Edward, as Ik said ar,
Had discomfyt Richard of Clar
The Secret Of The Stars
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
Is man's the only throbbing heart that hides
The silent spring that feeds its whispering tides?
Speak from thy caverns, mystery-breeding Earth,
Tell the half-hinted story of thy birth,
And calm the noisy champions who have thrown
The book of types against the book of stone!
Vision Of Columbus - Book 8
© Joel Barlow
And now the Angel, from the trembling sight,
Veil'd the wide worldwhen sudden shades of night
The Ballad Of Boh Da Thone
© Rudyard Kipling
This is the ballad of Boh Da Thone,
Erst a Pretender to Theebaw's throne,
Who harried the district of Alalone:
How he met with his fate and the V.P.P.
At the hand of Harendra Mukerji,
Senior Gomashta, G.B.T.
Sonnet IX "I Know Not Why, But All This Weary Day"
© Henry Timrod
I know not why, but all this weary day,
Suggested by no definite grief or pain,
A Book Of Strife In The Form Of The Diary Of An Old Soul - May
© George MacDonald
1.
WHAT though my words glance sideways from the thing
The Flitting
© John Clare
I've left my own old home of homes,
Green fields and every pleasant place;
Extracts From An Opera
© John Keats
1.
The sun, with his great eye,
Sees not so much as I;
And the moon, all silve-proud,
Might as well be in a cloud.
The Foray Of Con ODonnell. A.D. 1495
© Denis Florence MacCarthy
The evening shadows sweetly fall
Along the hills of Donegal,
