War poems
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Remorse
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
"What would you tell me, my child, my child, that once slept a babe on my breast?"
(Do the death bells toll for a passing soul?)
"O mother! my friend is dead, now I stand confessed.
I can strike the stone into flame, make the dark give light,
But I cannot give back to the tiniest bird its flight.
The Moral Warfare
© John Greenleaf Whittier
WHEN Freedom, on her natal day,
Within her war-rocked cradle lay,
An iron race around her stood,
Baptized her infant brow in blood;
Afternoon
© Emma Lazarus
Small, shapeless drifts of cloud
Sail slowly northward in the soft-hued sky,
With blur half-tints and rolling summits bright,
By the late sun caressed; slight hazes shroud
All things afar; shineth each leaf anigh
With its own warmth and light.
Two Poems To Harriet Beecher Stowe
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
ON HER SEVENTIETH BIRTHDAY, JUNE 14, 1882
On A Landscape Bt Rubens
© William Lisle Bowles
Nay, let us gaze, ev'n till the sense is full,
Upon the rich creation, shadowed so
How Sweet The Name Of Jesus Sounds
© John Newton
How sweet the name of Jesus sounds
In a believer's ear?
It soothes his sorrows, heals his wounds,
And drives away his fear.
The Empty Purse--A Sermon To Our Later Prodigal Son
© George Meredith
Thy knowledge of women might be surpassed:
As any sad dog's of sweet flesh when he quits
The wayside wandering bone!
No revilings of comrades as ingrates: thee
The tempter, misleader, and criminal (screened
By laws yet barbarous) own.
My Corn-Cob Pipe
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
Men may sing of their Havanas, elevating to the stars
The real or fancied virtues of their foreign-made cigars;
But I worship Nicotina at a different sort of shrine,
And she sits enthroned in glory in this corn-cob pipe of mine.
To ****
© Fitz-Greene Halleck
THE world is bright before thee,
Its summer flowers are thine,
Its calm blue sky is o'er thee,
Thy bosom Pleasure's shrine;
The Bloody fields of Wheogo
© Anonymous
The moon rides high in a starry sky,
And, through the midnight gloom,
A Vision Of The Argonauts
© Richard Monckton Milnes
It is a privilege of great price to walk
With that old sorcerer Fable, hand in hand,
Adown the shadowy vale of History:
There is no other wand potent as his,
Fable L: The Hare and Many Friends
© John Gay
Friendship, like love, is but a name,
Unless to one you stint the flame.
The Adirondacs
© Ralph Waldo Emerson
Wise and polite,--and if I drew
Their several portraits, you would own
Chaucer had no such worthy crew,
Nor Boccace in Decameron.
In Response
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
SUCH kindness! the scowl of a cynic would soften,
His pulse beat its way to some eloquent words,
Alas! my poor accents have echoed too often,
Like that Pinafore music you've some of you heard.
The Ancient Banner
© Anonymous
In boundless mercy, the Redeemer left,
The bosom of his Father, and assumed
To Frederick Henry Hedge
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
FIT emblem for the altar's side,
And him who serves its daily need,
The stay, the solace, and the guide
Of mortal men, whate'er his creed!
