War poems
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What Man Dare Say?
© George Ade
What man dare say that he is quite immune
From charms and spells that ev'ry girl possesses ?
The Dunciad: Book I.
© Alexander Pope
The Mighty Mother, and her son who brings
The Smithfield muses to the ear of kings,
To K.B.
© Fyodor Ivanovich Tyutchev
You're here again - and of a sudden
A warmth long gone floods my dead heart,
And all I thought forgot, unbidden
Returns, of me becomes a part.
The Sun Cup
© Archibald Lampman
The earth is the cup of the sun,
That he filleth at morning with wine,
With the warm, strong wine of his might
From the vintage of gold and of light,
Fills it, and makes it divine.
Mrs. Effingham's Swan Song
© Muriel Stuart
I am growing old: I have kept youth too long,
But I dare not let them know it now.
The Sixth Olympic Ode Of Pindar
© Henry James Pye
A sudden thought I raptur'd feel,
Which, as the whetstone points the steel,
Brightens my sense, and bids me warbling raise
To the soft-breathing flute, the kindred notes of praise.
A Paraphrase On The Latter Part Of The Sixth Chapter Of St Matthew
© James Thomson
When my breast labours with oppressive care,
And o'er my cheek descends the falling tear:
Poetry
© George Meredith
Grey with all honours of age! but fresh-featured and ruddy
As dawn when the drowsy farm-yard has thrice heard Chaunticlere.
Tender to tearfulness-childlike, and manly, and motherly;
Here beats true English blood richest joyance on sweet English ground.
Two Capitals1910
© Harriet Monroe
White Moscow of the pearly towers.
And golden domes for praise
And chiming hours!
Red Moscow of the Kremlin walls,
And bloody battle ways
And fire-scarred halls!
Boethius, De Consolatione Philosophiae : Liber 2. Metrum 5
© Henry Vaughan
Happy that first white age when we
Lived by the earth's mere charity!
In Memory Of The Late G. C. Of Montreal
© Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
The earth was flooded in the amber haze
That renders so lovely our autumn days,
The dying leaves softly fluttered down,
Bright crimson and orange and golden brown,
And the hush of autumn, solemn and still,
Brooded oer valley, plain and hill.
The Little Native Rose
© Henry Lawson
THERE is a lasting little flower,
That everybody knows,
Yet none has thought to think about
The little Native Rose.
The Wife Of Asdrubal
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
Bright in her hand the lifted dagger gleams,
Swift from her children's hearts the life-blood streams;
With frantic laugh she clasps them to the breast
Whose woes and passions soon shall be at rest;
Lifts one appealing, frenzied glance on high,
Then deep 'midst rolling flames is lost to mortal eye.
The Shallows Of The Ford
© Henry Herbert Knibbs
Did you ever wait for daylight
when the stars along the river
Ibn Kolthum
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Ha! The bowl! Fill it high, a fair morning wine--cup!
Leave we naught of the lees of Andarína.
Rise, pour forth, be it mixed, let it foam like saffron!
tempered thus will we drink it, ay, free--handed.
Stellas Birth-Day.1719-20
© Jonathan Swift
All travellers at first incline
Where'er they see the fairest sign
Ode VI: To William Hall, Esquire: With The Works Of Chaulieu
© Mark Akenside
I.
Attend to Chaulieu's wanton lyre;
Mountain Pictures
© John Greenleaf Whittier
I. FRANCONIA FROM THE PEMIGEWASSET
Once more, O Mountains of the North, unveil
First Sunday After Christmas
© John Keble
'Tis true, of old the unchanging sun
His daily course refused to run,
The pale moon hurrying to the west
Paused at a mortal's call, to aid
The avenging storm of war, that laid
Seven guilty realms at once on earth's defiled breast.
