War poems
/ page 350 of 504 /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 --
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:
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.
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.
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!
"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!
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!
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,
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.
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
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
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.
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?
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.
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.
Thebais - Book One - part I
© Pablius Papinius Statius
Fraternal rage, the guilty Thebes alarms,
Th alternate reign destroyed by impious arms,
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.
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.'