War poems
/ page 272 of 504 /Sacred And Profane Love
© Alfred Austin
Profane Love speaks
``I am the Goddess mortals call Profane,
Yet worship me as though I were divine;
Over their lives, unrecognised, I reign,
For all their thoughts are mine.
Beowulf (Old English version)
© Pierre Reverdy
Hwæt. We Gardena in geardagum,
þeodcyninga, þrym gefrunon,
Songs from The Beggars Opera: Air XVI-Over the Hills, and Far Away
© John Gay
Act I, Scene xiii, Air XVIOver the Hills, and Far Away
Epistle from Mrs. Yonge to Her Husband
© Lady Mary Wortley Montagu
Think not this paper comes with vain pretense
To move your pity, or to mourn th offense.
Dolcino To Margaret
© Charles Kingsley
The world goes up and the world goes down,
And the sunshine follows the rain;
And yesterday's sneer and yesterday's frown
Can never come over again,
Sweet wife:
No, never come over again.
For three whose reflex was yes
© Richard Jones
Nobody I know is a god. A mother and son
fall into the river's million hands, the river's
O-Jazz-O War Memoir: Jazz, Don’t Listen To It At Your Own Risk
© Bob Kaufman
In the beginning, in the wet
Warm dark place,
Jerusalem Delivered - Book 04 - part 06
© Torquato Tasso
LXXXI
"Ah! be it not pardie declared in France,
The Test of Fantasy
© Joanne Kyger
It unfolds and ripples like a banner, downward. All the stories
come folding out. The smells and flowers begin to come back, as
the tapestry is brightly colored and brocaded. Rabbits and violets.
from The Shepheardes Calender: October
© Edmund Spenser
The dapper ditties, that I wont devise,
To feede youthes fancie, and the flocking fry,
Delighten much: what I the bett for thy?
They han the pleasure, I a sclender prise.
I beate the bush, the byrds to them doe flye:
What good thereof to Cuddie can arise?
Brighter Shone The Golden Shadows
© Louisa May Alcott
Brighter shone the golden shadows;
On the cool wind softly came
BabLockHythe
© Robert Laurence Binyon
In the time of wild roses
As up Thames we travelled
Where 'mid water--weeds ravelled
The lily uncloses,
The Archbishop And Gil Blas
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
I DON'T think I feel much older; I'm aware I'm rather gray,
But so are many young folks; I meet 'em every day.
I confess I 'm more particular in what I eat and drink,
But one's taste improves with culture; that is all it means, I think.
Change
© Letitia Elizabeth Landon
And this is what is left of youth! . . .
There were two boys, who were bred up together,
kitchenette building
© Gwendolyn Brooks
We are things of dry hours and the involuntary plan,
Grayed in, and gray. “Dream” makes a giddy sound, not strong
Like “rent,” “feeding a wife,” “satisfying a man.”
Bird Parliament (translation of)
© Edward Fitzgerald
And first, with Heart so full as from his Eyes
Ran weeping, up rose Tajidar the Wise;
The mystic Mark upon whose Bosom show'd
That He alone of all the Birds THE ROAD
Had travell'd: and the Crown upon his Head
Had reach'd the Goal; and He stood forth and said:
Fragen
© Bertolt Brecht
Schreib mir, was du anhast! Ist es warm?
Schreib mir, wie du liegst! Liegst du auch weich?
Schreib mir, wie du aussiehst! Ist´s noch gleich?
Schreib mir, was dir fehlt! Ist es mein Arm?
The Dome of Sunday
© Ishmael Reed
As if one life emerging from one house
Would pause, a single image caught between
Two facing mirrors where vision multiplies
Beyond perspective,
A silent clatter in the high-speed eye
Spinning out photo-circulars of sight.