War poems
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F?sulan Idyl
© Walter Savage Landor
She drew back
The boon she tendered, and then, finding not
The ribbon at her waist to fix it in,
Dropt it, as loth to drop it, on the rest.
The Old Man's Funeral
© William Cullen Bryant
Ye sigh not when the sun, his course fulfilled,
His glorious course, rejoicing earth and sky,
In the soft evening, when the winds are stilled,
Sinks where his islands of departure spread
O'er the warm-colored heaven and ruddy mountain head.
On the Dark, Still, Dry Warm Weather
© Gilbert White
Th'imprison'd winds slumber within their caves
Fast bound: the fickle vane, emblem of change,
To Robert Browning
© Walter Savage Landor
There is delight in singing, though none hear
Beside the singer; and there is delight
In praising, though the praiser sits alone
And see the praised far off him, far above.
Proud Word You Never Spoke
© Walter Savage Landor
Proud word you never spoke, but you will speak
Four not exempt from pride some future day.
Resting on one white hand a warm wet cheek,
Over my open volume you will say,
'This man loved me'then rise and trip away.
On The Third Day
© Stephen Spender
On the first summer day I lay in the valley.
Above rocks the sky sealed my eyes with a leaf
I Strove with None
© Walter Savage Landor
I strove with none, for none was worth my strife.
Nature I loved and, next to Nature, Art:
I warm'd both hands before the fire of life;
It sinks, and I am ready to depart.
Finis
© Walter Savage Landor
I STROVE with none, for none was worth my strife.
Nature I loved and, next to Nature, Art:
I warm'd both hands before the fire of life;
It sinks, and I am ready to depart.
The time has come for us to become madmen in your chain
© Mewlana Jalaluddin Rumi
The time has come for us to become madmen in your chain, to
burst our bonds and become estranged from all;
To yield up our souls, no more to bear the disgrace of such a
soul, to set fire to our house, and run like fire to the tavern.
On His Seventy-fifth Birthday
© Walter Savage Landor
I strove with none, for none was worth my strife;
Nature I loved, and next to Nature, Art;
I warmed both hands before the fire of Life;
It sinks, and I am ready to depart.
Agatha
© Alfred Austin
SHE wanders in the April woods,
That glisten with the fallen shower;
She leans her face against the buds,
She stops, she stoops, she plucks a flower.
The Spell
© Edith Nesbit
OUR boat has drifted with the stream
That stirs the river's full sweet bosom
And now she stays where gold flags gleam
By meadow-sweet's pale foam of blossom.
Wash of Cold River
© Hilda Doolittle
wind-flower
that keeps the breath
of the north-wind --
these and none other;
Italian Girl's Hymn To The Virgin
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
In the deep hour of dreams,
Through the dark woods, and past the moaning sea,
And by the star-light gleams,
Mother of sorrows! lo, I come to thee!
Dreams of the Beloved
© Charles Harpur
HER IMAGE haunts me. Lo! I muse at even,
And straight it gathers from the gloom to make
Leda
© Hilda Doolittle
Where the slow river
meets the tide,
a red swan lifts red wings
and darker beak,
A Sanitary Message
© Francis Bret Harte
Last night, above the whistling wind,
I heard the welcome rain,--
Lines To A Lady, on Hearing Her Sing
© Joseph Rodman Drake
Yes! heaven protect thee, thou gem of the ocean;
Dear land of my sires, though distant thy shores;
Ere my heart cease to love thee, its latest emotion,
The last dying throbs of its pulse must be o'er.
Winter In Spring
© Arthur Symons
Winter is over, and the ache of the year
Quieted into test;
The torn boughs heal, and the time of the leaf is near,
And the time of the nest.
Just Whistle A Bit
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
Just whistle a bit, if the day be dark,
And the sky be overcast:
If mute be the voice of the piping lark,
Why, pipe your own small blast.
