War poems

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Night-Bound.

© Robert Crawford

Comes the night that brings me rest,
Comes the dark that folds me in
This of all my nights the best,
Nights of virtue, nights of sin.

For Scotland

© Robert Fuller Murray

Beyond the Cheviots and the Tweed,
Beyond the Firth of Forth,
My memory returns at speed
To Scotland and the North.

An Epilogue To Love

© Arthur Symons

I

Love now, my heart, there is but now to love;

The Merchant Ship

© Henry Kendall

The Sun oer the waters was throwing

In the freshness of morning its beams;

The Unloved

© Arthur Symons

These are the women whom no man has loved.

Year after year, day after day has moved

Scenes From The Faust Of Goethe

© Percy Bysshe Shelley

CHORUS:
Thy countenance gives the Angels strength,
Though none can comprehend Thee:
And all Thy lofty works
Are excellent as at the first day.

dwell,
While he was acting (he would call it) well;
He bought as others buy, he sold as others sell;
There was no fraud, and he demanded cause
Why he was troubled when he kept the laws?"
"My laws!" said Conscience. "What," said he, "

An Ode On The Peace

© Helen Maria Williams

I.

As wand'ring late on Albion's shore

Firwood

© John Clare

The fir trees taper into twigs and wear

The rich blue green of summer all the year,

Faces

© Arthur Symons

The pathos of a face behind the glass,
When April brightens in the grass;
The pathos of a face that, like the day,
Fades to an evening, chill and grey,
Yet has not known the universal boon
Of Springtide at the warmth of noon.

Makanna's Gathering

© Thomas Pringle

Wake! Amakósa, wake!

And arm yourselves for war.

Old Barnard -- A Monkish Tale

© Mary Darby Robinson

OLD BARNARD was still a lusty hind,

Though his age was full fourscore;

Lines Written In The Highlands After A Visit To Burns's Country

© John Keats

There is a charm in footing slow across a silent plain,
Where patriot battle has been fought, where glory had the gain;
There is a pleasure on the heath where Druids old have been,
Where mantles grey have rustled by and swept the nettles green;

Daphles. An Argive Story

But the Queen's host by skilful champions led,
Its powers meanwhile concentred to a head,
Lay, an embattled force with wary eye,
Ready to ward or strike whene'er the cry
Of coming foemen on their ears should fall,
Nigh the huge towers which guard the capital.

The Lute-Player

She was a lady great and splendid,
I was a minstrel in her halls.
A warrior like a prince attended
Stayed his steed by the castle walls.

To His Fairest Valentine Mrs. A. L.

"Come, pretty birds, present your lays,
And learn to chaunt a goddess praise;
Ye wood-nymphs, let your voices be
Employ'd to serve her deity:
And warble forth, ye virgins nine,
Some music to my Valentine.

The Marvelous Munchausen

The snug little room with its brazier fire aglow,
And Piet and Sachs and Vroom - all in the long ago, -
Oh, the very long ago! - o'er their pipes and hollands seen;
And on the wall the man-o'-war, and firelight on the screen!

Art, The Herald

© Alfred Noyes

Beyond; beyond; and yet again beyond!
What went ye out to seek, oh foolish-fond?
Is not the heart of all things here and now?
Is not the circle infinite, and the centre
Everywhere, if ye would but hear and enter?
Come; the porch bends and the great pillars bow.