War poems

 / page 301 of 504 /
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A Barefoot Boy

© James Whitcomb Riley

A barefoot boy! I mark him at his play—


 For May is here once more, and so is he,—

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Questions Of Life

© John Greenleaf Whittier

A bending staff I would not break,
A feeble faith I would not shake,
Nor even rashly pluck away
The error which some truth may stay,
Whose loss might leave the soul without
A shield against the shafts of doubt.

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The Girl with Bees in Her Hair

© Hugo Williams

came in an envelope with no return address; 

she was small, wore wrinkled dress of figured 

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On What Planet

© Kenneth Rexroth

Uniformly over the whole countryside

The warm air flows imperceptibly seaward;

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Satire IV

© John Donne

Well; I may now receive, and die. My sin

 Indeed is great, but yet I have been in

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The Shipwreck Of Idomeneus

© George Meredith

Amid the din of elemental strife,
No voice may pierce but Deity supreme:
And Deity supreme alone can hear,
Above the hurricane's discordant shrieks,
The cry of agonized humanity.

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To the Noblest and Best of Ladies, the Countess of Denbigh

© Richard Crashaw

Persuading her to resolution in religion, and to
Render herself without further delay into the
Communion of the Catholic Church

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Paradise Lost: Book XII (1674)

© Patrick Kavanagh

AS one who in his journey bates at Noone,
Though bent on speed, so heer the Archangel paus'd
Betwixt the world destroy'd and world restor'd,
If Adam aught perhaps might interpose;
Then with transition sweet new Speech resumes.

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Two Portraits

© Henry Timrod

  I
You say, as one who shapes a life,
That you will never be a wife,

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Gnothi Seauton

© Samuel Johnson

  What then remains? Must I, in slow decline,
To mute inglorious ease old age resign?
Or, bold ambition kindling in my breast,
Attempt some arduous task? Or, were it best,
Brooding o'er lexicons to pass the day,
And in that labour drudge my life away?

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Moloch In State Street

© John Greenleaf Whittier

THE moon has set: while yet the dawn
Breaks cold and gray,
Between the midnight and the morn
Bear off your prey!

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The Return

© Frank Bidart

As the retreating Bructeri began to burn their own 
possessions, to deny to the Romans every sustenance but 
ashes,

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Tryste Noel

© Louise Imogen Guiney

  The Ox he openeth wide the Doore

  And from the Snowe he calls her inne,

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lifeline

© Evie Shockley

wedged in the top branches, rain still sighing

  to earth as a dissolute sky dissolves,

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from The Testament of Love

© John Hall Wheelock

from Book I, Introduction

Man’s Reason is in such deep insolvency to sense,

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Idyll VI. The Drawn Battle

© Theocritus

  Daphnis the herdsman and Damoetas once
  Had driven, Aratus, to the selfsame glen.
  One chin was yellowing, one shewed half a beard.
  And by a brookside on a summer noon
  The pair sat down and sang; but Daphnis led
  The song, for Daphnis was the challenger.

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Nutting Song

© Paul Laurence Dunbar

The November sun invites me,

  And although the chill wind smites me,

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Guinevere

© Alfred Tennyson

`Late, late, so late! and dark the night and chill!
Late, late, so late! but we can enter still.
Too late, too late! ye cannot enter now.

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Bel Canto

© Kenneth Koch

The sun is high, the seaside air is sharp,


And salty light reveals the Mayan School.

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The Ecstasy

© Thomas Parnell

Charmd with the sight I long to bear my part
The pleasure flutters at my ravishd heart
Sweet saints and Angels Heavns immortall Quire
If Love have warmd me with celestial fire
Assist my words and as they move along
With Halelujah crown the burthend Song