War poems
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The Massacre at Scio
© William Cullen Bryant
Weep not for Scio's children slain;
Their blood, by Turkish falchions shed,
Sends not its cry to Heaven in vain
For vengeance on the murderer's head.
The Grave-Tree
© Bliss William Carman
LET me have a scarlet maple
For the grave-tree at my head,
With the quiet sun behind it,
In the years when I am dead.
To A Bee
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
SMALL epicurean, would to heaven that I
Could borrow your lithe body and swift wing
To speed, a lightning atom through the sky,
The blithest courier on the winds of spring!
Supernatural Songs
© William Butler Yeats
Ribh at the Tomb of Baile and Aillinn
Because you have found me in the pitch-dark night
The Maiden's Prayer
© Edith Nesbit
SPRING, pretty Spring, what treasure do you bring to me?
Green grass and buttercups, cherry-bloom and may?
Sunshine to be glad with me, and little birds to sing to me?
Warm nests to call me along the woodland way?
Chalkey Hall
© John Greenleaf Whittier
Oh, once again revive, while on my ear
The cry of Gain
And low hoarse hum of Traffic die away,
Ye blessed memories of my early day
Like sere grass wet with rain!
Mogg Megone - Part III.
© John Greenleaf Whittier
Ah! weary Priest! - with pale hands pressed
On thy throbbing brow of pain,
O'Hussey's Ode To The Maguire
© James Clarence Mangan
WHERE is my chief, my master, this bleak night, mavrone?
O cold, cold, miserably cold is this bleak night for Hugh!
Its showery, arrowy, speary sleet pierceth one thro' and thro' -
Pierceth one to the very bone.
She Was A Phantom Of Delight
© William Wordsworth
She was a Phantom of delight
When first she gleamed upon my sight;
The Truce of Piscataqua
© John Greenleaf Whittier
"Let your ears be opened wide!
He who speaks has never lied.
Waldron of Piscataqua,
Hear what Squando has to say!
Unknown Warrior
© Elizabeth Daryush
Not that broad path chose he, which whoso wills
May tread, if he by pay the fatal price,
And for such sweet as earthly life extils,
Slaughter his heaven-born soul in sacrifice.
Hudibras - The Lady's Answer to The Knight
© Samuel Butler
We are your guardians, that increase
Or waste your fortunes how we please;
And, as you humour us, can deal
In all your matters, ill or well.
Lines Written In August
© Thomas Babbington Macaulay
The day of tumult, strife, defeat, was o'er;
Worn out with toil, and noise, and scorn, and spleen,
I slumbered, and in slumber saw once more
A room in an old mansion, long unseen.
To H. W. Longfellow
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
OUR Poet, who has taught the Western breeze
To waft his songs before him o'er the seas,
Will find them wheresoe'er his wanderings reach
Borne on the spreading tide of English speech
Twin with the rhythmic waves that kiss the farthest beach.
conteining an Historicall Discourse from the Infancie of the world, untill this present time
© Roger Cotton
Now may we all of England say of truth:
As we haue heard, so haue we seene performd
In these our dayes most worthy to be learnd:
How that the Lord doth stil his Church defend
From cruell foes, whom his to hurt pretend.
Evangeline: Part The First. II.
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
NOW had the season returned, when the nights grow colder and longer,
And the retreating sun the sign of the Scorpion enters.
Woodmanship
© George Gascoigne
My worthy Lord, I pray you wonder not
To see your woodman shoot so oft awry,
