War poems
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The Dykes
© Rudyard Kipling
We have no heart for the fishing, we have no hand for the oar
All that our fathers taught us of old pleases us now no more;
All that our own hearts bid us believe we doubt where we do not deny
There is no proof in the bread we eat or rest in the toil we ply.
A Farmhouse Dirge
© Alfred Austin
Will you walk with me to the brow of the hill, to visit the farmer's wife,
Whose daughter lies in the churchyard now, eased of the ache of life?
Half a mile by the winding lane, another half to the top:
There you may lean o'er the gate and rest; she will want me awhile to stop,
Stop and talk of her girl that is gone and no more will wake or weep,
Or to listen rather, for sorrow loves to babble its pain to sleep.
Indiscretion
© Edith Nesbit
RED tulip-buds last night caressed
The sacred ivory of her breast.
She met me, eager to divine
What gold-heart bud of hope was mine.
Alma; or, The Progress of the Mind. In Three Cantos. - Canto II.
© Matthew Prior
Richard, quoth Matt, these words of thine
Speak something sly and something fine;
But I shall e'en resume my theme,
However thou may'st praise or blame.
The Lady To Her Guitar
© Emily Jane Brontë
For him who struck thy foreign string,
I ween this heart has ceased to care;
Then why dost thou such feelings bring
To my sad spirit-old Guitar?
A Plea For Our Northern Winters
© Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
Oh, Earth, where is the mantle of pleasant emerald dye
That robed thee in sweet summer-time, and gladdened heart and eye,
Adorned with blooming roses, graceful ferns and blossoms sweet,
And bright green moss like velvet that lay soft beneath our feet?
The Song Of Hiawatha III: Hiawatha's Childhood
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Downward through the evening twilight,
In the days that are forgotten,
Malcolm's Katie: A Love Story - Part IV.
© Isabella Valancy Crawford
High grew the snow beneath the low-hung sky,
And all was silent in the Wilderness;
In trance of stillness Nature heard her God
Rebuilding her spent fires, and veil'd her face
While the Great Worker brooded o'er His work.
Charleston
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
Then fold about thy beauteous form
The imperial robe thou wearest,
And front with regal port the storm
Thy foe would dream thou fearest;
If strength, and will, and courage fail
To cope with ruthless numbers,
Touchstone On A Bus
© Alfred Noyes
Last night I rode with Touchstone on a bus
From Ludgate Hill to World's End. It was he!
Hacking Home
© William Henry Ogilvie
When your homing carloads swing
Past us down the crisping lanes,
The Dream by the Fountain
© Charles Harpur
Bright was her brow, not the mornings brow brighter,
But her eyes were two midnights of passionate thought;
Light was her motion, the breezes not lighter,
And her looks were like sunshine and shadow in-wrought.
Hyperion. Book III
© John Keats
Thus in altemate uproar and sad peace,
Amazed were those Titans utterly.
Ajanta
© Muriel Rukeyser
CAME in my full youth to the midnight cave
nerves ringing; and this thing I did alone.
The Death of Morgan
© Anonymous
Throughout Australian History no tongue or pen can tell
Of such preconcerted treachery - there is no parallel -
As the tragic deed of Morgan's death; without warning he was shot,
On Peechelba Station it will never be forgot.
Elegy X. To Fortune, Suggesting His Motive for Repining at Her Dispensations
© William Shenstone
Ask not the cause why this rebellious tongue
Loads with fresh curses thy detested sway!
Ask not, thus branded in my softest song,
Why stands the flatter'd name, which all obey!
Buddha And Brahma
© Henry Brooks Adams
Then gently, still in silence, lost in thought,
The Buddha raised the Lotus in his hand,
His eyes bent downward, fixed upon the flower.
No more! A moment so he held it only,
Then his hand sank into its former rest.
