War poems
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Tannhauser
© Emma Lazarus
Far into Wartburg, through all Italy,
In every town the Pope sent messengers,
Riding in furious haste; among them, one
Who bore a branch of dry wood burst in bloom;
The pastoral rod had borne green shoots of spring,
And leaf and blossom. God is merciful.
Why The Spring Is Late
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
To Miss Eva Russell.
The spring time is deaf to our pleading,
Turn O The Tide
© Henry Van Dyke
The tide flows in to the harbour,
The bold tide, the gold tide, the flood o' the sunlit sea,
New-Englands Crisis
© Benjamin Tompson
IN seventy five the Critick of our years
Commenc'd our war with Phillip and his peers.
Burns
© John Greenleaf Whittier
No more these simple flowers belong
To Scottish maid and lover;
Sown in the common soil of song,
They bloom the wide world over.
The Ghost - Book III
© Charles Churchill
It was the hour, when housewife Morn
With pearl and linen hangs each thorn;
A Dream Of Venice
© Ada Cambridge
Numb, half asleep, and dazed with whirl of wheels,
And gasp of steam, and measured clank of chains,
Marmion: Introduction to Canto II.
© Sir Walter Scott
But chief 'twere sweet to think such life
(Though but escape from fortune's strife),
Something most matchless good and wise,
A great and grateful sacrifice;
And deem each hour to musing given
A step upon the road to heaven.
The Invasion
© Sir Henry Newbolt
Spring, they say, with his greenery
Northward marches at last,
Mustering thorn and elm;
Breezes rumour him conquering,
Tell how Victory sits
High on his glancing helm.
The Brus Book IX
© John Barbour
[The king goes to Inverurie and falls ill]
Now leve we intill the Forest
Looking In The Fire
© Ada Cambridge
The snow falls soft and thick. My cedar bough
Sways up and down, and scratches on the glass.
The wind sighs in the chimney, as I sit,
With elbows on my knees, before the fire,
Resting a crumpled chin in hollow'd palms.
Death Be Not Proud
© John Donne
Death be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for, thou art not soe,
The Armistice
© John Jay Chapman
WHEN from a mighty storm far out at sea
Roll in the glassy and gigantic waves,
The Sacred Fire
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
They lit a fire within their land that long was ashes cold,
With splendid dreams they made it glow, threw in their hearts of gold.
The Mermaid
© George MacDonald
Up cam the tide wi' a burst and a whush,
And back gaed the stanes wi' a whurr;
The king's son walkit i' the evenin hush,
To hear the sea murmur and murr.
Wiegenlied
© Karl Joachim Friedrich Ludwig von Arnim
Goldne Wiegen schwingen
Und die Mücken singen;
Blumen sind die Wiegen,
Kindlein drinnen liegen;
Auf und nieder geht der Wind,
Geht sich warm und geht gelind.
Lie-a-bed
© Lesbia Harford
My darling lies down in her soft white bed,
And she laughs at me.
Her laughter has flushed her pale cheeks with red.
Her eyes dance with glee.
Tales Of A Wayside Inn : Part 2. The Student's Second Tale; The Baron of St. Castine
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
O sun, that followest the night,
In yon blue sky, serene and pure,
And pourest thine impartial light
Alike on mountain and on moor,
Pause for a moment in thy course,
And bless the bridegroom and the bride!
The Traveller; or, A Prospect of Society
© Oliver Goldsmith
Remote, unfriended, melancholy, slow
Or by the lazy Scheldt or wandering Po,
How Shall I Woo Thee
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
How shall I woo thee to win thee, mine own?
Say in what tongue shall I tell of my love.
I who was fearless so timid have grown,
All that was eagle has turned into dove.
The path from the meadow that leads to the bars
Is more to me now than the path of the stars.
