A Pause of Thought by Christina Rossetti I looked for that which is not, nor can be, And hope deferred made my heart sick in truth: But years must pass before a hope of youth Is resigned utterly. I watched and waited with a steadfast will: And though the object seemed to flee away That…
Month: May 2011
The Warrior by John McCrae
The Warrior by John McCrae He wrought in poverty, the dull grey days, But with the night his little lamp-lit room Was bright with battle flame, or through a haze Of smoke that stung his eyes he heard the boom Of Bluecher’s guns; he shared Almeida’s scars, And from the close-packed deck, about to die,…
The Honey Room by Donal Mahoney
The Honey Room by Donal Mahoney Brother Al, in his hood, is out in his field making love to his bees. From my room I can see him move through his hives the way people should move among people. The bees give him gold and the gold turns orange in the jars that…
Where-Away by James Whitcomb Riley
Where-Away by James Whitcomb Riley O the Lands of Where-Away! Tell us?tell us?where are they? Through the darkness and the dawn We have journeyed on and on? From the cradle to the cross? From possession unto loss,? Seeking still, from day to day, For the lands of Where-Away. When our baby-feet were first Planted…
Whispers of Immortality by T. S. Eliot
Whispers of Immortality by T. S. Eliot Webster was much possessed by death And saw the skull beneath the skin; And breastless creatures under ground Leaned backward with a lipless grin. Daffodil bulbs instead of balls Stared from the sockets of the eyes! He knew that thought clings round dead limbs Tightening its lusts and…
The Fathers by Siegfried Sassoon
The Fathers by Siegfried Sassoon Snug at the club two fathers sat, Gross, goggle-eyed, and full of chat. One of them said: “My eldest lad Writes cheery letters from Bagdad. But Arthur’s getting all the fun At Arras with his nine-inch gun.” “Yes,” wheezed the other, “that’s the luck! My boy’s quite broken-hearted, stuck…
Memorial Day by Joyce Kilmer
Memorial Day by Joyce Kilmer “Dulce et decorum est” The bugle echoes shrill and sweet, But not of war it sings to-day. The road is rhythmic with the feet Of men-at-arms who come to pray. The roses blossom white and red On tombs where weary soldiers lie; Flags wave above the honored dead And martial…