War poems
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The Triumph Of Melancholy
© James Beattie
Memory, be still! why throng upon the thought
These scenes deep-stain'd with Sorrow's sable dye?
Hast thou in store no joy-illumined draught,
To cheer bewilder'd Fancy's tearful eye?
From The Inverted Torch: When In The First Great Hour
© Edith Matilda Thomas
Yet as some muser, when the embers fall,
The low lamp flickers out, starts up dismayed,
So I awoke, to find me still Times thrall,
Times sport,nor by thy warm, safe presence stayed.
To Some Ladies
© John Keats
What though while the wonders of nature exploring,
I cannot your light, mazy footsteps attend;
Nor listen to accents, that almost adoring,
Bless Cynthia's face, the enthusiasts friend:
From Boethius: De Consolatione Philosophiae; Book III. Metre 5
© Samuel Johnson
The man who pants for ample sway,
Must bid his passions all obey;
The Vassal's Lament For The Fallen Tree
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
Yes! I have seen the ancient oak
On the dark deep water cast,
And it was not fell'd by the woodman's stroke,
Or the rush of the sweeping blast;
For the axe might never touch that tree,
And the air was still as a summer-sea.
On Returning To England
© Alfred Austin
There! once again I stand on home,
Though round me still there swirls the foam,
The City Tree
© Isabella Valancy Crawford
I stand within the stony, arid town,
I gaze for ever on the narrow street;
I hear for ever passing up and down,
The ceaseless tramp of feet.
Le Vieux Temps
© William Henry Drummond
Venez ici, mon cher ami, an' sit down by me-so
An' I will tole you story of old tam long ago-
Myrtilla
© Washington Allston
"Ah me! how sad," Myrtilla cried,
"To waste alone my years!"
While o'er a streamlet's flow'ry side
She pensive hung, and watch'd the tide
That dimpled with her tears.
Strife and Peace
© Jean Ingelow
The yellow poplar-leaves came down
And like a carpet lay,
No waftings were in the sunny air
To flutter them away;
And he stepped on blithe and debonair
That warm October day.
Auri Sacra Fames
© George Essex Evans
Gone are the mists of old in the light of the larger day!
Gone is the foolish hope, the trust in a Power above!
Science has swept the heavens and brushed religion away!
What need we hope or fear? Warfare is clothed like Love!
Priestcraft is but a tradesouls can be bought and sold!
Why should we seek for a godnow that our god is Gold?
Good-Bye, And Keep Cold
© Robert Frost
This saying good-bye on the edge of the dark
And cold to an orchard so young in the bark
Dickens
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
METHINKS the air
Throbs with the tolling of harmonious bells,
Rung by the bands of spirits; everywhere
We feel the presence of a soft despair
And thrill to voices of divine farewells.
Ballade Of Blind Love
© Andrew Lang
Queen, when the clay is my coverlet,
When I am dead, and when you are grey,
Vow, where the grass of the grave is wet,
"I shall never forget till my dying day!"
A Picture
© John Henry Newman
"The maiden is not dead, but sleepeth."
She is not gone;still in our sight
That dearest maid shall live,
In form as true, in tints as bright,
As youth and health could give.
