War poems
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What Makes Summer?
© George MacDonald
Winter froze both brook and well;
Fast and fast the snowflakes fell;
Renunciation
© Edith Nesbit
ROSE of the desert of my heart,
Moon of the night that is my soul,
Thou can'st not know how sweet thou art,
Nor what wild tides thy beams control.
A Rhapsody
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Oh fly not, Pleasure, pleasant--hearted Pleasure.
Fold me thy wings, I prithee, yet and stay.
For my heart no measure
Knows nor other treasure
To buy a garland for my love to--day.
Tale V
© George Crabbe
these,
All that on idle, ardent spirits seize;
Robbers at land and pirates on the main,
Enchanters foil'd, spells broken, giants slain;
Legends of love, with tales of halls and bowers,
Choice of rare songs, and garlands of choice
In A 'Bus.
© James Brunton Stephens
A QUARTER of a century agone,
Just such a face as this upon me shone,
Ennui
© Lord Alfred Douglas
Alas! and oh that Spring should come again
Upon the soft wings of desired days,
And bring with her no anodyne to pain,
And no discernment of untroubled ways.
The Shepherd's Wife's Song
© Robert Greene
His flocks are folded; he comes home at night
As merry as a king in his delight,
And merrier, too:
For kings bethink them what the state require,
Where shepherds, careless, carol by the fire:
The Child's Music Lesson
© Archibald Lampman
Why weep ye in your innocent toil at all?
Sweet little hands, why halt and tremble so?
Sonnet 8: Love, Born In Greece
© Sir Philip Sidney
Love, born in Greece, of late fled from his native place,
Forc'd by a tedious proof, that Turkish harden'd heart
Is no fit mark to pierce with his fine pointed dart,
And pleas'd with our soft peace, stayed here his flying race.
The Abandoned
© Mathilde Blind
SHE sat by the wayside and wept, where roses, red roses and white,
Lay wasted and withered and sere, like her life and its ruined delight;
Like chaff blown about in the wind whirled roses, white roses and red,
And pale, on night's threshold, the moon bent over the day that was dead.
The Hand In The Dark
© Ada Cambridge
How calm the spangled city spread below!
How cool the night! How fair the starry skies!
How sweet the dewy breezes! But I know
What, under all their seeming beauty, lies.
Ode to Rae Wilson Esq.
© Thomas Hood
Mere verbiage,it is not worth a carrot!
Why, Socratesor Platowhere's the odds?
Once taught a jay to supplicate the Gods,
And made a Polly-theist of a Parrot!
The Princess (part 6)
© Alfred Tennyson
My dream had never died or lived again.
As in some mystic middle state I lay;
Seeing I saw not, hearing not I heard:
Though, if I saw not, yet they told me all
So often that I speak as having seen.
Childish Recollections
© George Gordon Byron
'I cannot but remember such things were,
And were most dear to me.'
WHEN slow Disease, with all her host of pains,
Chills the warm, tide which flows along the veins
A Welcome From The "Johnson Club"
© Henry Austin Dobson
When Pope came back from Trojan wars once more,
He found a Bard, to meet him on the shore,
And hail his advent with a strain as clear
As e'er was sung by BYRON or by FRERE.
De Snowbird
© William Henry Drummond
O leetle bird dat's come to us w'en stormy win' she's blowin',
An' ev'ry fiel' an' mountain top is cover wit' de snow,
How far from home you're flyin', noboddy's never knowin'
For spen' wit' us de winter tam, mon cher petit oiseau!
The Devil Of Pope-Fig Island
© Jean de La Fontaine
ON t'other hand an island may be seen,
Where all are hated, cursed, and full of spleen.
We know them by the thinness of their face
Long sleep is quite excluded from their race.
