War poems

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In Bohemia

© James Whitcomb Riley

Ha! My dear! I'm back again--

  Vendor of Bohemia's wares!

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In Memoriam A. H. H. OBIIT MDCCCXXXIII: 105

© Alfred Tennyson

To-night ungather'd let us leave
 This laurel, let this holly stand:
 We live within the stranger's land,
And strangely falls our Christmas-eve.

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OEnone

© Alfred Tennyson

 "Dear mother Ida, harken ere I die.
He smiled, and opening out his milk-white palm
Disclosed a fruit of pure Hesperian gold,
That smelt ambrosially, and while I look'd
And listen'd, the full-flowing river of speech
Came down upon my heart.

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Eden bower

© Dante Gabriel Rossetti

It was Lilith the wife of Adam:

(Sing Eden Bower!)

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Aphrodite Metropolis (2)

© Kenneth Fearing

Harry loves Myrtle—He has strong arms, from the warehouse,

And on Sunday when they take the bus to emerald meadows he doesn't say:

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The Troubadour. Canto 1

© Letitia Elizabeth Landon

There is a light step passing by
Like the distant sound of music's sigh;
It is that fair and gentle child,
Whose sweetness has so oft beguiled,
Like sunlight on a stormy day,
His almost sullenness away.

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To Ladies Of A Certain Age

© John Trumbull

Ye ancient Maids, who ne'er must prove

The early joys of youth and love,

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Ode to Adversity

© John Gay

Daughter of Heav'n, relentless pow'r,

Thou tamer of the human breast,

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To -- -- --. Ulalume: A Ballad

© Edgar Allan Poe

The skies they were ashen and sober;

 The leaves they were crispéd and sere—

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Evensong

© Conrad Aiken

I

In the pale mauve twilight, streaked with orange,

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Critic and Poet: an Epilogue

© Emma Lazarus

Oh deeper, higher than he could divine
That all-unearthly, untaught strain! He saw
The plain, brown warbler, unabashed. "Not mine"
(He cried) "the error of this fatal flaw.
No bird is this, it soars beyond my line,
Were it a bird, 'twould answer to my law."

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"Here Is The Place Where Loveliness Keeps House"

© Madison Julius Cawein

Here is the place where Loveliness keeps house,

Between the river and the wooded hills,

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Regardant

© John Hay

As I lay at your feet that afternoon,
Little we spoke,--you sat and mused,
Humming a sweet old-fashioned tune,

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Michael: A Pastoral Poem

© William Wordsworth


  Thus in his Father's sight the Boy grew up:
 And now, when he had reached his eighteenth year,
 He was his comfort and his daily hope.

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Breitmann As An Uhlan. II. Brietmann In A Balloon.

© Charles Godfrey Leland

WHO vas efer hear soosh voonders,
Holy breest or virshin nonn?
As pefelled de Coptain Breitmann,
Vhen he hoont an air-ballon.

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Thanksgiving

© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

When first in ancient time, from Jubal's tongue

The tuneful anthem filled the morning air,

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The Beggars

© Margaret Widdemer

The little pitiful, worn, laughing faces,


Begging of Life for Joy!

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As I Walked Through London

© Robert Laurence Binyon

As I walked through London,
The fresh wound burning in my breast,
As I walked through London,
Longing to have forgotten, to harden my heart, and to rest,

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Experience In Poverty

© Paul Hamilton Hayne

A.
HOW bitterly you speak!
B.
I have good warrant.

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Lament

© Thom Gunn

Your dying was a difficult enterprise.

First, petty things took up your energies,