War poems

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Daphnis And Chloe

© Andrew Marvell

Daphnis must from Chloe part:
Now is come the dismal Hour
That must all his Hopes devour,
All his Labour, all his Art.

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An Horatian Ode Upon Cromwell's Return from Ireland

© Andrew Marvell

The forward youth that would appear
Must now forsake his Muses dear,
Nor in the shadows sing
His numbers languishing.

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The Picnic

© Charles Godfrey Leland

DE picknock oud at Spraker's Wood:-
It melt de soul und fire de plood.
Id sofly slid from cakes und cream;
Boot busted oop on brandy shdeam.

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The Unfortunate Lover

© Andrew Marvell

Alas, how pleasant are their dayes
With whom the Infant Love yet playes!
Sorted by pairs, they still are seen
By Fountains cool, and Shadows green.

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Eland’s River

© George Essex Evans

IT WAS on the fourth of August, as five hundred of us lay

In the camp at Eland’s River, came a shell from De La Rey—

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Moses In The Bulrushes. A Sacred Drama

© Hannah More

Hebrew Woman.
Jochebed, Mother of Moses.
Miriam, his Sister.

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To His Noble Friend, Mr. Richard Lovelace, Upon His Poems

© Andrew Marvell

Sir,
Our times are much degenerate from those
Which your sweet muse with your fair fortune chose,
And as complexions alter with the climes,

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The Character Of Holland

© Andrew Marvell

Holland, that scarce deserves the name of Land,
As but th'Off-scouring of the Brittish Sand;
And so much Earth as was contributed
By English Pilots when they heav'd the Lead;

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Lady Hamilton

© Muriel Stuart

Men wondered why I loved you, and none guessed

How sweet your slow, divine stupidity,

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Upon Appleton House, to My Lord Fairfax

© Andrew Marvell

Within this sober Frame expect
Work of no Forrain Architect;
That unto Caves the Quarries drew,
And Forrests did to Pastures hew;

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On A Drop Of Dew

© Andrew Marvell

See how the Orient Dew,
Shed from the Bosom of the Morn
Into the blowing Roses,
Yet careless of its Mansion new;

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The Child Of The Islands - Winter

© Caroline Norton

I.
ERE the Night cometh! On how many graves
Rests, at this hour, their first cold winter's snow!
Wild o'er the earth the sleety tempest raves;

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First Anniversary

© Andrew Marvell

Like the vain curlings of the watery maze,
Which in smooth streams a sinking weight does raise,
So Man, declining always, disappears
In the weak circles of increasing years;
And his short tumults of themselves compose,
While flowing Time above his head does close.

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A Dialogue Between The Soul And Body

© Andrew Marvell

Soul
O Who shall, from this Dungeon, raise
A Soul inslav'd so many wayes?
With bolts of Bones, that fetter'd stands

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Koening Of The River

© Derek Walcott

Koening knew now there was no one on the river.
Entering its brown mouth choking with lilies
and curtained with midges, Koenig poled the shallop
past the abandoned ferry and the ferry piles

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Egypt, Tobago

© Derek Walcott

There is a shattered palm
on this fierce shore,
its plumes the rusting helm-
et of a dead warrior.

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Forest Of Europe

© Derek Walcott

The last leaves fell like notes from a piano
and left their ovals echoing in the ear;
with gawky music stands, the winter forest
looks like an empty orchestra, its lines
ruled on these scattered manuscripts of snow.

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The Star-Apple Kingdom

© Derek Walcott

There were still shards of an ancient pastoral
in those shires of the island where the cattle drank
their pools of shadow from an older sky,
surviving from when the landscape copied such objects as

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A Florilegium

© Alfred Austin

I

All the seasons of the year,

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The Schooner 'Flight'

© Derek Walcott


4 The Flight, Passing
Blanchisseuse.