War poems

 / page 490 of 504 /
star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

Sonnet V

© Alan Seeger

A tide of beauty with returning May
Floods the fair city; from warm pavements fume
Odors endeared; down avenues in bloom
The chestnut-trees with phallic spires are gay.

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

Sonnet IX

© Alan Seeger

Amid the florid multitude her face
Was like the full moon seen behind the lace
Of orchard boughs where clouded blossoms part
When Spring shines in the world and in the heart.

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

Sonnet I

© Alan Seeger

Down the strait vistas where a city street
Fades in pale dust and vaporous distances,
Stained with far fumes the light grows less and less
And the sky reddens round the day's retreat.

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

Sonnet 03

© Alan Seeger

Why should you be astonished that my heart,
Plunged for so long in darkness and in dearth,
Should be revived by you, and stir and start
As by warm April now, reviving Earth?

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

Paris

© Alan Seeger

First, London, for its myriads; for its height,
Manhattan heaped in towering stalagmite;
But Paris for the smoothness of the paths
That lead the heart unto the heart's delight. . . .

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

Maktoob

© Alan Seeger

A shell surprised our post one day
And killed a comrade at my side.
My heart was sick to see the way
He suffered as he died.

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

Liebestod

© Alan Seeger

I who, conceived beneath another star,
Had been a prince and played with life, instead
Have been its slave, an outcast exiled far
From the fair things my faith has merited.

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

La Nue

© Alan Seeger

Oft when sweet music undulated round,
Like the full moon out of a perfumed sea
Thine image from the waves of blissful sound
Rose and thy sudden light illumined me.

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

Kyrenaikos

© Alan Seeger

Lay me where soft Cyrene rambles down
In grove and garden to the sapphire sea;
Twine yellow roses for the drinker's crown;
Let music reach and fair heads circle me,

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

Juvenilia, An Ode to Natural Beauty

© Alan Seeger

There is a power whose inspiration fills
Nature's fair fabric, sun- and star-inwrought,
Like airy dew ere any drop distils,
Like perfume in the laden flower, like aught

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

Fragments

© Alan Seeger


There was a time when I thought much of Fame,
And laid the golden edifice to be
That in the clear light of eternity
Should fitly house the glory of my name.

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

El Extraviado

© Alan Seeger

Over the radiant ridges borne out on the offshore wind,
I have sailed as a butterfly sails whose priming wings unfurled
Leave the familiar gardens and visited fields behind
To follow a cloud in the east rose-flushed on the rim of the world.

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

Ariosto. Orlando Furioso, Canto X, 91-99

© Alan Seeger

Ruggiero, to amaze the British host,
And wake more wonder in their wondering ranks,
The bridle of his winged courser loosed,
And clapped his spurs into the creature's flanks;

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

Antinous

© Alan Seeger

Stretched on a sunny bank he lay at rest,
Ferns at his elbow, lilies round his knees,
With sweet flesh patterned where the cool turf pressed,
Flowerlike crept o'er with emerald aphides.

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

An Ode to Antares

© Alan Seeger

At dusk, when lowlands where dark waters glide
Robe in gray mist, and through the greening hills
The hoot-owl calls his mate, and whippoorwills
Clamor from every copse and orchard-side,

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

Ode in Memory of the American Volunteers Fallen for France

© Alan Seeger

IAy, it is fitting on this holiday,
Commemorative of our soldier dead,
When -- with sweet flowers of our New England May
Hiding the lichened stones by fifty years made gray --

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

Thora's Song ('Ashtaroth')

© Adam Lindsay Gordon

We severed in Autumn early,
Ere the earth was torn by the plough;
The wheat and the oats and the barley
Are ripe for the harvest now.

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

The Swimmer

© Adam Lindsay Gordon

With short, sharp violent lights made vivid,
To the southward far as the sight can roam,
Only the swirl of the surges livid,
The seas that climb and the surfs that comb,

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

A Dedication

© Adam Lindsay Gordon

They are rhymes rudely strung with intent less
Of sound than of words,
In lands where bright blossoms are scentless,
And songless bright birds;

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

Lament for Zenocrate

© Christopher Morley

Black is the beauty of the brightest day,
The golden belle of heaven's eternal fire,
That danced with glory on the silver waves,
Now wants the fuel that inflamed his beams: