War poems
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The Arrival
© Patricia Goedicke
Luggage first, the lining of his suit jacket dangling
As always, just when you’d given up hope
Nimbly he backs out of the taxi
Lines in Reply to the Beautiful Poet Who Welcomed News of McGonagall's Departure from Dundee
© William Topaz McGonagall
Dear Johnny, I return my thanks to you;
But more than thanks is your due
For publishing the scurrilous poetry about me
Leaving the Ancient City of Dundee.
The Deserted Village
© Mark van Doren
Sweet Auburn, loveliest village of the plain,
Where health and plenty cheared the labouring swain,
The Scholar-Gipsy
© Matthew Arnold
Go, for they call you, shepherd, from the hill;
Go, shepherd, and untie the wattled cotes!
J. D. R.
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
THE friends that are, and friends that were,
What shallow waves divide!
I miss the form for many a year
Still seated at my side.
Nocturne
© Li-Young Lee
That scraping of iron on iron when the wind
rises, what is it? Something the wind won’t
A Summer Pastoral
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
It's hot to-day. The bees is buzzin'
Kinder don't-keer-like aroun'
The House Of Dust: Part 02: 07:
© Conrad Aiken
'One white rose . . . or is it pink, to-day?'
They pause and smile, not caring what they say,
If only they may talk.
The crowd flows past them like dividing waters.
Dreaming they stand, dreaming they walk.
A Shropshire Lad XII: When I watch the living meet
© Alfred Edward Housman
When I watch the living meet,
And the moving pageant file
Warm and breathing through the street
Where I lodge a little while,
On the Death of Richard West
© Thomas Gray
In vain to me the smiling Mornings shine,
And reddening Phbus lifts his golden fire;
In Memoriam A. H. H. OBIIT MDCCCXXXIII: 39
© Alfred Tennyson
Old warder of these buried bones,
And answering now my random stroke
With fruitful cloud and living smoke,
Dark yew, that graspest at the stones
Christmas,1870
© Alfred Austin
Heaven strews the earth with snow,
That neither friend nor foe
May break the sleep of the fast-dying year;
A world arrayed in white,
Late dawns, and shrouded light,
Attest to us once more that Christmas-tide is here.
An Epistle Containing the Strange Medical Experience of Karshish, the Arab Physician
© Robert Browning
Karshish, the picker-up of learning's crumbs,
The not-incurious in God's handiwork
Trapped Dingo
© Judith Wright
So here, twisted in steel, and spoiled with red
your sunlight hide, smelling of death and fear,
A Woman on the Dump
© Debora Greger
Is it peace,
Is it a philosopher’s honeymoon, one finds
On the dump?
—Wallace Stevens
Out of the cracks of cups and their handles, missing,
the leaves unceremoniously tossed, unread,
from a stubble of coffee ground ever more finely
into these hollowed grounds,
H. S. Mauberley (Life and Contacts) [Part I]
© Ezra Pound
E. P. Ode pour l'élection de son sépulchre
For three years, out of key with his time,
He strove to resuscitate the dead art
Of poetry; to maintain "the sublime"
In the old sense. Wrong from the start i
