War poems
/ page 39 of 504 /
The Princes' Quest - Part the Third
© William Watson
"O Sleep, thou hollow sea, thou soundless sea,
Dull-breaking on the shores of haunted lands,
Lo, I am thine: do what thou wilt with me.
The Farmer's Ingle (english version)
© Robert Fergusson
Whan gloming grey out o'er the welkin keeks,
Whan Batie ca's his owsen to the byre,
Sordello: Book the Second
© Robert Browning
What next? The curtains see
Dividing! She is there; and presently
He will be there-the proper You, at length-
In your own cherished dress of grace and strength:
Most like, the very Boniface!
Hudibras: Part 3 - Canto II
© Samuel Butler
Next him his Son and Heir Apparent
Succeeded, though a lame vicegerent;
Who first laid by the Parliament,
The only crutch on which he leant;
And then sunk underneath the State,
That rode him above horseman's weight.
The Execution Of Montrose
© William Edmondstoune Aytoun
COME hither, Evan Cameron!
Come, stand beside my knee:
The Dead Tribune
© Denis Florence MacCarthy
The awful shadow of a great man's death
Falls on this land, so sad and dark before-
The Voice And Pen
© Denis Florence MacCarthy
Oh! the orator's voice is a mighty power,
As it echoes from shore to shore,
And the fearless pen has more sway o'er men
Than the murderous cannon's roar!
Der Ueber Uns
© Gotthold Ephraim Lessing
Hans Steffen stieg bei Daemmerung (und kaum
konnt er vor Naeschigkeit die Daemmerung erwarten)
in seines Edelmannes Garten
und pluenderte den besten Apfelbaum.
Only In Sleep
© Sara Teasdale
Only in sleep I see their faces,
Children I played with when I was a child,
Louise comes back with her brown hair braided,
Annie with ringlets warm and wild.
Sorrow And Joys
© George Meredith
Bury thy sorrows, and they shall rise
As souls to the immortal skies,
And there look down like mothers' eyes.
Tales Of A Wayside Inn : Part 1. Prelude; The Wayside Inn
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
One Autumn night, in Sudbury town,
Across the meadows bare and brown,
The windows of the wayside inn
Gleamed red with fire-light through the leaves
Of woodbine, hanging from the eaves
Their crimson curtains rent and thin.
The Kings Prophecie
© Joseph Hall
What Stoick could his steely brest containe
(If Zeno self, or who were made beside
Of tougher mold) from being torne in twaine
With the crosse Passions of this wondrous tide?
Grief at ELIZAES toomb, orecomne anone
With greater ioy at her succeeded throne?
The Bard of Furthest Out
© Henry Lawson
HE LONGED to be a Back-Blocks Bard,
And fame he wished to win
Some Account Of A New Play
© Richard Harris Barham
Tavistock Hotel, Nov. 1839.
Dear Charles,
- In reply to your letter, and Fanny's,
Lord Brougham, it appears, isn't dead,- though Queen Anne is;
'Twas a 'plot' and a 'farce'- you hate farces, you say -
Take another 'plot,' then, viz. the plot of a Play.
Of The Nature Of Things: Book II - Part 02 - Atomic Motions
© Lucretius
Now come: I will untangle for thy steps
Now by what motions the begetting bodies
Spleen (III)
© Charles Baudelaire
Je suis comme le roi d'un pays pluvieux,
Riche, mais impuissant, jeune et pourtant très vieux,
Qui, de ses précepteurs méprisant les courbettes,
S'ennuie avec ses chiens comme avec d'autres bêtes.
Don Juan: Canto The Fourth
© George Gordon Byron
Nothing so difficult as a beginning
In poesy, unless perhaps the end;
Fragment: Supposed To Be An Epithalamium Of Francis Ravaillac And Charlotte Corday
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
'Tis midnight now--athwart the murky air,
Dank lurid meteors shoot a livid gleam;
From the dark storm-clouds flashes a fearful glare,
It shows the bending oak, the roaring stream.
