War poems
/ page 285 of 504 /
St Vincent’s
© William Stanley Merwin
eyes open and ears to hear
these years across from St Vincent’s Hospital
above whose roof those clouds rose
Econo Motel, Ocean City
© Daisy Fried
Korean monster movie on the SyFy channel,
lurid Dora the Explorer blanket draped tentlike
The Aeneid of Virgil: Book 10
© Publius Vergilius Maro
THE GATES of heavn unfold: Jove summons all
The gods to council in the common hall.
The Wind Of March
© John Greenleaf Whittier
Up from the sea, the wild north wind is blowing
Under the sky's gray arch;
Smiling, I watch the shaken elm-boughs, knowing
It is the wind of March.
A Hymn
© James Thomson
These, as they change, Almighty Father, these
Are but the varied God. The rolling year
A Phonecall from Frank O’Hara
© Anne Waldman
“That all these dyings may be life in death”
I was living in San Francisco
Within and Without: Part IV: A Dramatic Poem
© George MacDonald
SCENE I.-Summer. Julian's room. JULIAN is reading out of a book of
poems.
A Time Past
© Denise Levertov
The old wooden steps to the front door
where I was sitting that fall morning
Paradise Regain'd: Book I (1671)
© Patrick Kavanagh
I Who e're while the happy Garden sung,
By one mans disobedience lost, now sing
Half an Hour
© Jean Valentine
Hurt, hurtful, snake-charmed,
struck white together half an hour we tear
through the half-dark after
The Character Of The Bore
© John Donne
Well; I may now receive and die. My sin
Indeed is great, but yet I have been in
Love Is Enough: Songs I-IX
© William Morris
Love is enough: though the World be a-waning
And the woods have no voice but the voice of complaining,
Love Calls Us to the Things of This World
© Lola Ridge
The eyes open to a cry of pulleys,
And spirited from sleep, the astounded soul
Hangs for a moment bodiless and simple
As false dawn.
Outside the open window
The morning air is all awash with angels.
$2.50
© Kenneth Fearing
But that dashing, dauntless, delphic, diehard, diabolic cracker likes his fiction turned with a certain elegance and wit; and that anti-anti-anti-slum-congestion clublady prefers romance;
Search through the mothballs, comb the lavender and lace;
Were her desires and struggles futile or did an innate fineness bring him at last to a prouder, richer peace in a world gone somehow mad?
A Death in the Desert
© Robert Browning
Then Xanthus said a prayer, but still he slept:
It is the Xanthus that escaped to Rome,
Was burned, and could not write the chronicle.
Epitaph On H. Walmsley, Esq.,
© William Lisle Bowles
IN ALVERSTOKE CHURCH, HANTS.
Oh! they shall ne'er forget thee, they who knew
Experience
© Edith Wharton
But otherwise Fate wills it, for, behold,
Our gathered strength of individual pain,
When Time’s long alchemy hath made it gold,
Dies with us—hoarded all these years in vain,
Since those that might be heir to it the mould
Renew, and coin themselves new griefs again.
