War poems
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Andromeda Unfettered
© Muriel Stuart
Nay, what do you seek?
If of men we be chained,
Our chains be of gold,
If the fetters we break
What conquest is gained?
Shall a hill-top out-spread a pavilion more safe than our palace hold?
Carol Of Occupations
© Walt Whitman
COME closer to me;
Push close, my lovers, and take the best I possess;
Yield closer and closer, and give me the best you possess.
Endimion and Phoebe (excerpts)
© Michael Drayton
In Ionia whence sprang old poets' fame,
From whom that sea did first derive her name,
The blessed bed whereon the Muses lay,
Beauty of Greece, the pride of Asia,
Pallas And Venus. An Epigram
© Matthew Prior
The Trojan swain had judged the great dispute,
And beauty's power obtain'd the golden fruit,
When Venus, loose in all her naked charms,
Met Jove's great daughter clad in shining arms,
The wanton goddess view'd the warlike maid
From head to foot, and tauntingly she said;
Look Not Too Deep
© Robert Laurence Binyon
Look not too deep in my heart,
My beloved; nay, lean not too near
From the shores of thy peace, lest thou start
From the midst of thy sweet thoughts to hear
To The Querulous Poets
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
THROW by the trappings of your tinsel rhyme!
Hush the crude voice, whose neverending wail
Blights the sweet song of thrush, or nightingale,--
Set to the treble of our querulous time;
Ode to the Cambro-Britons and their Harp, His Ballad of Agi
© Michael Drayton
Fair stood the wind for France,
When we our sails advance;
Nor now to prove our chance
Longer will tarry;
Sonnet VII: Love in a Humour
© Michael Drayton
Love in a humor play'd the prodigal
And bade my Senses to a solemn feast;
Yet, more to grace the company withal,
Invites my Heart to be the chiefest guest.
Mercury And Cupid
© Matthew Prior
In sullen Humour one Day Jove
Sent Hermes down to Ida's Grove,
Commanding Cupid to deliver
His Store of Darts, his total Quiver;
That Hermes shou'd the Weapons break,
Or throw 'em into Lethe's Lake.
Seashore
© Ralph Waldo Emerson
I heard or seemed to hear the chiding Sea
Say, Pilgrim, why so late and slow to come?
Agincourt
© Michael Drayton
FAIR stood the wind for France
When we our sails advance,
Nor now to prove our chance
Longer will tarry;
Vidrik Verlandson (From The Old Danish)
© George Borrow
King Diderik sits in the halls of Bern,
And he boasts of his deeds of might;
So many a swain in battle hes felld,
And taken so many a knight.
Wordsworth's Grave
© William Watson
The old rude church, with bare, bald tower, is here;
Beneath its shadow high-born Rotha flows;
Rotha, remembering well who slumbers near,
And with cool murmur lulling his repose
The Young Warrior
© James Weldon Johnson
Mother, shed no mournful tears,
But gird me on my sword;
And give no utterance to thy fears,
But bless me with thy word.
Bonaparte
© Sir Walter Scott
From a rude isle, his ruder lineage came.
The spark, that, from a suburb hovel's hearth
Sonnet LXIII: Truce, Gentle Love
© Michael Drayton
Truce, gentle Love, a parley now I crave;
Methinks 'tis long since first these wars begun;
The Battle Of Agincourt
© Michael Drayton
Fair stood the wind for France
When we our sails advance,
Nor now to prove our chance
Longer will tarry;
Pastoral
© Kenneth Patchen
The Dove walks with sticky feet
Upon the green crowns of the almond tree,
Its feathers smeared over with warmth
Like honey
That dips lazily down into the shadow ...
