War poems
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The Altogether Lovely.
© Mather Byles
I.
Oft has thy Name employ'd my Muse,
Thou Lord of all above:
Oft has my Song to thee arose,
My Song, inspir'd by Love.
Spring Longing
© Emma Lazarus
Lilac hazes veil the skies.
Languid sighs
Breathes the mild, caressing air.
Pink as coral's branching sprays,
Orchard ways
With the blossomed peach are fair.
To One in Bedlam
© Ernest Christopher Dowson
With delicate, mad hands, behind his sordid bars,
Surely he hath his posies, which they tear and twine;
Those scentless wisps of straw , that miserably line
His strait, caged universe, whereat the dull world stares,
A Christmas Hymn
© Alfred Domett
IT was the calm and silent night!
Seven hundred years and fifty-three
The Master Theme
© France Preseren
A Slovene wreath your poet has entwined;
A record of my pain and of your praise,
Since from my heart's deep roots have sprung these lays,
These tear-stained flowers of a poet's mind.
Tale XX
© George Crabbe
flown:
All swept away, to be perceived no more,
Like idle structures on the sandy shore,
The chance amusement of the playful boy,
That the rude billows in their rage destroy.
Poor George confess'd, though loth the truth to
An Apology
© Frances Anne Kemble
Blame not my tears, love, to you has been given
The brightest, best gift, God to mortals allows;
The sunlight of hope on your heart shines from Heaven,
And shines from your heart on this life and its woes.
Sketch From Bowden Hill After Sickness
© William Lisle Bowles
How cheering are thy prospects, airy hill,
To him who, pale and languid, on thy brow
On Divine Love By Meditating On The Wounds Of Christ
© Thomas Parnell
Holy Jesus! God of Love!
Look with pity from above,
Ripley
© Henry Timrod
Rich in red honors, that upon him lie
As lightly as the Summer dews
Fall where he won his fame beneath the sky
Of tropic Vera Cruz;
The TigerLily
© Robert Laurence Binyon
What wouldst thou with me? By what spell
My spirit allure, absorb, compel?
The last long beam that thou didst drink
Is buried now on evening's brink.
Sea-ward, white gleaming thro' the busy scud (fragment)
© Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Sea-ward, white gleaming thro' the busy scud
With arching Wings, the sea-mew o'er my head
Posts on, as bent on speed, now passaging
Edges the stiffer Breeze, now, yielding, drifts,
Now floats upon the air, and sends from far
A wildly-wailing Note.
Lincoln
© Harriet Monroe
And, lo! leading a blessed host comes one
Who held a warring nation in his heart;
The Dread Voyage
© William Wilfred Campbell
Trim the sails the weird stars under
Past the iron hail and thunder,
Go Get The Goodly Squab
© Sylvia Plath
Go get the goodly squab in gold-lobed corn
And pluck the droll-flecked quail where thick they lie;
Reap the round blue pigeon from roof ridge,
But let the fast-feathered eagle fly.
London Types: News Boy
© William Ernest Henley
Take any station, pavement, circus, corner,
Where men their styles of print may call or choose,
