War poems
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On the desert
© Stephen Crane
On the desert
A silence from the moon's deepest valley.
Fire rays fall athwart the robes
Of hooded men, squat and dumb.
There was one I met upon the road
© Stephen Crane
There was one I met upon the road
Who looked at me with kind eyes.
Her said, "Show me of your wares."
And this I did,
Nature Study
© Craig Raine
All the lizards are asleep--
perched pagodas with tiny triangular tiles,
each milky lid a steamed-up window.
Inside, the heart repeats itself like a sleepy gong,
summoning nothing to nothing.
Gloucester Moods
© William Vaughn Moody
A mile behind is Gloucester town
Where the flishing fleets put in,
A mile ahead the land dips down
And the woods and farms begin.
An Ode in Time of Hesitation
© William Vaughn Moody
After seeing at Boston the statue of Robert Gould Shaw, killed while storming Fort Wagner, July 18, 1863, at the head of the first enlisted negro regiment, the Fifty-fourth Massachusetts.
I Before the solemn bronze Saint Gaudens made
To thrill the heedless passer's heart with awe,
And set here in the city's talk and trade
The Curtain
© Hayden Carruth
renewing field of corpse-flesh.
In this valley the snow falls silently all day and out our window
We see the curtain of it shifting and folding, hiding us away in
Fearful Women
© Carolyn Kizer
Arms and the girl I sing - O rare
arms that are braceleted and white and barearms that were lovely Helen's, in whose name
Greek slaughtered Trojan. Helen was to blame.Scape-nanny call her; wars for turf
and profit don't sound glamorous enough.Mythologize your women! None escape.
To a Little Girl That Has Told a Lie
© Ann Taylor
AND has my darling told a lie?
Did she forget that GOD was by?
That GOD, who saw the things she did,
From whom no action can be hid;
Did she forget that GOD could see
And hear, wherever she might be?
The Washing and Dressing
© Ann Taylor
Ah! why will my dear little girl be so cross,
And cry, and look sulky, and pout?
To lose her sweet smile is a terrible loss,
I can't even kiss her without.
The Cow
© Ann Taylor
Thank you, pretty cow, that made
Pleasant milk to soak my bread,
Every day and every night,
Warm, and fresh, and sweet, and white.
St. Winefred's Well
© Gerard Manley Hopkins
ACT I. SC. IEnter Teryth from riding, Winefred following.T. WHAT is it, Gwen, my girl? why do you hover and haunt me? W. You came by Caerwys, sir?
T. I came by Caerwys.
W. There
Some messenger there might have met you from my uncle.
Epithalamion
© Gerard Manley Hopkins
By there comes a listless stranger: beckoned by the noise
He drops towards the river: unseen
Sees the bevy of them, how the boys
With dare and with downdolphinry and bellbright bodies huddling out,
Are earthworld, airworld, waterworld thorough hurled, all by turn and turn about.
To His Watch
© Gerard Manley Hopkins
Field-flown, the departed day no morning brings
Saying This was yours with her, but new one, worse,
And then that last and shortest
On the Portrait of Two Beautiful Young People
© Gerard Manley Hopkins
O I admire and sorrow! The hearts eye grieves
Discovering you, dark tramplers, tyrant years.
A juice rides rich through bluebells, in vine leaves,
And beautys dearest veriest vein is tears.
My prayers must meet a brazen heaven
© Gerard Manley Hopkins
My prayers must meet a brazen heaven
And fail and scatter all away.
Unclean and seeming unforgiven
My prayers I scarcely call to pray.
The May Magnificat
© Gerard Manley Hopkins
Is it only its being brighter
Than the most are must delight her?
Is it opportunest
And flowers finds soonest?
To What Serves Mortal Beauty?
© Gerard Manley Hopkins
To what serves mortal beauty 'dangerous; does set danc-
ing bloodthe O-seal-that-so ' feature, flung prouder form
Than Purcell tune lets tread to? ' See: it does this: keeps warm
Men's wits to the things that are; ' what good meanswhere a glance
To Seem The Stranger Lies My Lot, My Life
© Gerard Manley Hopkins
I am in Ireland now; now I am at a thírd
Remove. Not but in all removes I can
Kind love both give and get. Only what word
Wisest my heart breeds dark heaven's baffling ban
Bars or hell's spell thwarts. This to hoard unheard,
Heard unheeded, leaves me a lonely began.
May Magnificat
© Gerard Manley Hopkins
May is Mary's month, and I
Muse at that and wonder why:
Her feasts follow reason,
Dated due to season
