War poems
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Elegy On The Death Of Dr. Channing
© James Russell Lowell
I do not come to weep above thy pall,
And mourn the dying-out of noble powers,
The poet's clearer eye should see, in all
Earth's seeming woe, seed of immortal flowers.
Fragment Of A Sonnet : To Harriet
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
Ever as now with Love and Virtue's glow
May thy unwithering soul not cease to burn,
Still may thine heart with those pure thoughts o'erflow
Which force from mine such quick and warm return.
Somewhere there is a simple life
© Anna Akhmatova
Somewhere there is a simple life and a world,
Transparent, warm and joyful. . .
There at evening a neighbor talks with a girl
Across the fence, and only the bees can hear
This most tender murmuring of all.
England And Spain
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
Illustrious names! still, still united beam,
Be still the hero's boast, the poet's theme:
So when two radiant gems together shine,
And in one wreath their lucid light combine;
Each, as it sparkles with transcendant rays,
Adds to the lustre of its kindred blaze.
Autumn
© David MacDonald Ross
If o'er the bare fields, cold and whitening
With the first snow-flakes, I should see thy form,
And meet and kiss thee, that were enough of Spring;
Enough of sunshine, could I feel the warm
Glad beating of thy heart 'neath Winter's wing,
Tho' Earth were full of whirlwind and of storm.
Autumns Warnings
© Augusta Davies Webster
SOFT voices of the woods, that make
The summer air a harmony,
Riders Of The Stars
© Henry Herbert Knibbs
Twenty abreast down the golden street, ten thousand riders marched;
Bow-legged boys in their swinging chaps, all clumsily keeping time;
And the Angel Host to the lone, last ghost their delicate eyebrows arched
As the swaggering sons of the open range drew up to the Throne Sublime.
A Question
© Christopher Pearse Cranch
AH, who can tell which guide were best
To truth long sought, but unattained
The early faith, or late unrest?
What age has earned, or boyhood gained?
Giddinesse
© George Herbert
Oh, what a thing is man! how farre from power,
From setled peace and rest!
He is some twentie sev'rall men at least
Each sev'rall houre.
Friendship
© Edgar Albert Guest
You can buy, if you've got money, all you need to drink and eat,
You can pay for bread and honey, and can keep your palate sweet.
But when trouble comes to fret you, and when sorrow comes your way,
For the gentle hand of friendship that you need you cannot pay.
Of The Nature Of Things: Book VI - Part 04 - The Plague Athens
© Lucretius
'Twas such a manner of disease, 'twas such
Mortal miasma in Cecropian lands
There Is
© Guillaume Apollinaire
There is this ship which has taken my beloved back again
There are six Zeppelin sausages in the sky and with night
The Morning Of The Day Appointed For A General Thanksgiving. January 18, 1816
© William Wordsworth
I
HAIL, orient Conqueror of gloomy Night!
Thou that canst shed the bliss of gratitude
On hearts howe'er insensible or rude;
The Cotter's Saturday Night
© Robert Burns
"Let not Ambition mock their useful toil,
Their homely joys, and destiny obscure;
Nor Grandeur hear, with a disdainful smile,
The short and simple annals of the poor."
Gray
Winter
© Archibald Lampman
The long days came and went; the riotous bees
Tore the warm grapes in many a dusty vine,
Regardin' Terry Hut
© James Whitcomb Riley
Sence I tuk holt o' Gibbses' Churn
And be'n a-handlin' the concern,
Amours De Voyage, Canto V
© Arthur Hugh Clough
Pisa, they say they think, and so I follow to Pisa,
Hither and thither inquiring. I weary of making inquiries.
I am ashamed, I declare, of asking people about it.-
Who are your friends? You said you had friends who would certainly know them.
Sospan Fach
© Robert Graves
Four collier lads from Ebbw Vale
Took shelter from a shower of hail,
And there beneath a spreading tree
Attuned their mouths to harmony.
She Touches A Sad String Of Soft Recall
© Sydney Thompson Dobell
Return, return! all night my lamp is burning,
All night, like it, my wide eyes watch and burn;
Like it, I fade and pale, when day returning
Bears witness that the absent can return,
Return, return.
Spring
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
At last young April, ever frail and fair,
Wooed by her playmate with the golden hair,
Chased to the margin of receding floods
O'er the soft meadows starred with opening buds,
In tears and blushes sighs herself away,
And hides her cheek beneath the flowers of May.
