War poems

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The Man Who Invented the Turn Signal

© Zieroth David Dale

The man who invented the turn signalwalks out the factory gatessomewhere in the westknowing he's done a serviceto the world hitting the roadby telling the car behind

Aphasia

© Zieroth David Dale

It is the suddenness of crossingoverthat cannot be comprehended.One moment she is among usreaching for her purse.Àæ.

A little child stood moaning At the hour of midnight lone,And no human ear was list'ning To the feebly wailing tone;The cold, keen blast of winter With funeral wail swept by,And the blinding snow fell darkly Through the murky, wintry sky

The Complaint: or Night Thoughts on Life, Death, and Immortality

© Edward Young

Night the First1

218. Song-Talk of him that’s Far Awa

© Robert Burns

MUSING on the roaring ocean,
Which divides my love and me;
Wearying heav’n in warm devotion,
For his weal where’er he be.

208. Song-To the Weaver’s gin ye go

© Robert Burns

MY heart was ance as blithe and free
As simmer days were lang;
But a bonie, westlin weaver lad
Has gart me change my sang.

200. Song-The Young Highland Rover

© Robert Burns

LOUD blaw the frosty breezes,

The snaws the mountains cover;

199. Song-My Peggy’s Charms

© Robert Burns

MY Peggy’s face, my Peggy’s form,
The frost of hermit Age might warm;
My Peggy’s worth, my Peggy’s mind,
Might charm the first of human kind.

You Meaner Beauties Of The Night

© Sir Henry Wotton

You meaner beauties of the night, That poorly satisfy our eyesMore by your number than your light; You common people of the skies, What are you when the sun shall rise?

Yarrow Visited. September, 1814

© William Wordsworth

And is this--Yarrow?--This the streamOf which my fancy cherished,So faithfully, a waking dream?An image that hath perished!O that some Minstrel's harp were near,To utter notes of gladness,And chase this silence from the air,That fills my heart with sadness!

Yet why?--a silvery current flowsWith uncontrolled meanderings;Nor have these eyes by greener hillsBeen soothed, in all my wanderings

131. Song-Willie Chalmers

© Robert Burns

WI’ braw new branks in mickle pride,

And eke a braw new brechan,

Song at the Feast of Brougham Castle upon the Restoration of Lord Clifford, the Shepherd, to the Estates and Honours of his Ancestors

High in the breathless Hall the Minstrel sate,And Emont's murmur mingled with the Song.--The words of ancient time I thus translate,A festal strain that hath been silent long:--

The Prelude: Book 2: School-time (Continued)

Thus far, O Friend! have we, though leaving muchUnvisited, endeavour'd to retraceMy life through its first years, and measured backThe way I travell'd when I first beganTo love the woods and fields; the passion yetWas in its birth, sustain'd, as might befal,By nourishment that came unsought, for still,From week to week, from month to month, we liv'dA round of tumult: duly were our gamesProlong'd in summer till the day-light fail'd;No chair remain'd before the doors, the benchAnd threshold steps were empty; fast asleepThe Labourer, and the old Man who had sate,A later lingerer, yet the revelryContinued, and the loud uproar: at last,When all the ground was dark, and the huge cloudsWere edged with twinkling stars, to bed we went,With weary joints, and with a beating mind

The Prelude: Book 1: Childhood and School-time

--Was it for thisThat one, the fairest of all Rivers, lov'dTo blend his murmurs with my Nurse's song,And from his alder shades and rocky falls,And from his fords and shallows, sent a voiceThat flow'd along my dreams? For this, didst Thou,O Derwent! travelling over the green PlainsNear my 'sweet Birthplace', didst thou, beauteous StreamMake ceaseless music through the night and dayWhich with its steady cadence, temperingOur human waywardness, compos'd my thoughtsTo more than infant softness, giving me,Among the fretful dwellings of mankind,A knowledge, a dim earnest, of the calmThat Nature breathes among the hills and groves