War poems

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Columbian Ode

© Paul Laurence Dunbar

I.

FOUR hundred years ago a tangled waste

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Battle Of Hastings - I

© Thomas Chatterton

From Chatelet hys launce Erle Egward drew,
And hit Wallerie on the dexter cheek;
Peerc'd to his braine, and cut his tongue in two.
There, knyght, quod he, let that thy actions speak --

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Dover To Munich

© Charles Stuart Calverley

Farewell, farewell!  Before our prow
  Leaps in white foam the noisy channel,
A tourist's cap is on my brow,
  My legs are cased in tourists' flannel:

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Spring Sleep

© Bai Juyi

The pillow's low, the quilt is warm, the body smooth and peaceful,
Sun shines on the door of the room, the curtain not yet open.
Still the youthful taste of spring remains in the air,
Often it will come to you even in your sleep.

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The Shepheardes Calender: June

© Edmund Spenser

June: AEgloga Sexta. HOBBINOL & COLIN Cloute.
HOBBINOL.
LO! Collin, here the place, whose pleasaunt syte
From other shades hath weand my wandring mynde.

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Address To Music

© Felicia Dorothea Hemans

OH thou! whose soft, bewitching lyre,
Can lull the sting of pain to rest;
Oh thou! whose warbling notes inspire,
The pensive muse with visions blest;
Sweet music! let thy melting airs
Enhance my joys, and sooth my cares!

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"Sed Nos Qui Vivimus"

© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt

How beautiful is life--the physical joy of sense and breathing;
The glory of the world which has found speech and speaks to us;
The robe which summer throws in June round the white bones of winter;
The new birth of each day, itself a life, a world, a sun!

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So Far, So Near

© Christopher Pearse Cranch

THOU so far, we grope to grasp thee —
Thou, so near, we cannot clasp thee —
Thou, so wise, our prayers grow heedless —
Thou, so loving, they are needless!

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In The Garden VI: A Peach

© Edward Dowden

IF any sense in mortal dust remains

When mine has been refin'd from flower to flower,

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Maha-Bharata, The Epic Of Ancient India - Book II - Swayamvara (The Bride's Choice)

© Romesh Chunder Dutt

The mutual jealousies of the princes increased from day to day, and
when Yudhishthir, the eldest of all the princes and the eldest son of
the late Pandu, was recognised heir-apparent, the anger of Duryodhan
and his brothers knew no bounds. And they formed a dark scheme to
kill the sons of Pandu.

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The Waggoner - Canto First

© William Wordsworth

'TIS spent--this burning day of June!
Soft darkness o'er its latest gleams is stealing;
The buzzing dor-hawk, round and round, is wheeling,--
That solitary bird

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Lucasta's World Epode

© Richard Lovelace

  I.
Cold as the breath of winds that blow
To silver shot descending snow,
  Lucasta sigh't; when she did close

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Psychological Warfare

© Henry Reed

Be that as it may, some time in the very near future,
We are to expect Invasion… and invasion not from the sea.
Vast numbers of troops will be dropped, probably from above,
Superbly equipped, determined and capable; and this above all,
Remember: they will be very brave men, and chosen as such.

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Husbands Overseas

© Lloyd Roberts

Each  morning they sit down to their little bites of bread,
 To six warm bowls of porridge and a broken mug or two.
And each simple soul is happy and each hungry mouth is fed–
 Then why should she be smiling as the weary-hearted do?

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Marjory

© Augusta Davies Webster

Spring Stornelli.

THE RIVULET.

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Ruth

© William Wordsworth

WHEN Ruth was left half desolate,
Her Father took another Mate;
And Ruth, not seven years old,
A slighted child, at her own will
Went wandering over dale and hill,
In thoughtless freedom, bold.

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The Sorrows of a Simple Bard

© Henry Lawson

WHEN I tell a tale of virtue and of injured innocence,
Then my publishers and lawyers are the densest of the dense:
With the blank face of an image and the nod of keep-it-dark
And a wink of mighty meaning at their confidential clerk.

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Thebais - Book One - part I

© Pablius Papinius Statius

Fraternal rage, the guilty Thebes’ alarms,  

Th’ alternate reign destroyed by impious arms,  

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In Vain

© Rose Terry Cooke

PUT every tiny robe away!
The stitches all were set with tears,
Slow, tender drops of joys; to-day
Their rain would wither hopes or fears:
Bitter enough to daunt the moth  
That longs to fret this dainty cloth.

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The Oubit

© Charles Kingsley

It was an hairy oubit, sae proud he crept alang,
A feckless hairy oubit, and merrily he sang-
'My Minnie bad me bide at hame until I won my wings;
I show her soon my soul's aboon the warks o' creeping things.'