Contemporary War Poems
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Contemporary War Poems: December, 1914 (Classic Reprint)
Sin vista previa disponible - 2018
Términos y frases comunes
American attitudes awful banners battle Belgium bids bitter Blessed blood blow bodies breath bring brothers cause ceased coming curse dark dawn dead dear death deeds died dream earth ENGLAND eyes face fate fear fields fight French German give gold gone graves grim guns hand hate hear heard heart hour human Judgment kill kings land lips live look Lord lost man's matter MICHIGAN mind mothers mourn murder never night oath once pain pass past peace play poems pray prayer rise ruined Save seems serve shot side slain sleep smile soldier songs sons soul stand sword tears Thee thing Thou shalt thousand to-day turned verse wait warring weep wind women wrong York
Página 7 - It is portentous, and a thing of state That here at midnight, in our little town A mourning figure walks, and will not rest, Near the old court-house pacing up and down, Or by his homestead, or in shadowed yards He lingers where his children used to play, Or through the market, on the well-worn stones He stalks until the dawn-stars burn away. A bronzed, lank man! His suit of ancient black, A famous high top-hat and plain worn shawl Make him the quaint great figure that men love, The prairie-lawyer...
Página 39 - You will we hate with a lasting hate, We will never forego our hate, Hate by water and hate by land, Hate of the head and hate of the hand, Hate of the hammer and hate of the crown, Hate of seventy millions, choking down. We love as one, we hate as one, We have one foe, and one alone — ENGLAND!
Página 7 - He cannot sleep upon his hillside now. He is among us: -as in times before! And we who toss and lie awake for long Breathe deep, and start, to see him pass the door. His head is bowed. He thinks on men and kings. Yea, when the sick world cries, how can he sleep ? Too many peasants fight, they know not why, Too many homesteads in black terror weep. The sins of all the war-lords burn his heart. He sees the dreadnaughts scouring every main. He carries on his shawl-wrapped shoulders now The bitterness,...
Página 7 - The sins of all the war-lords burn his heart. He sees the dreadnaughts scouring every main. He carries on his shawl-wrapped shoulders now The bitterness, the folly and the pain. He cannot rest until a spirit-dawn Shall come; — the shining hope of Europe free: The league of sober folk, the Workers' Earth, Bringing long peace to Cornland, Alp and Sea.
Página 7 - Or through the market, on the well-worn stones He stalks until the dawn-stars burn away. A bronzed, lank man! His suit of ancient black, A famous high top-hat and plain worn shawl Make him the quaint great figure that men love, The prairie-lawyer, master of us all. He cannot sleep upon his hillside now. He is among us: — as in times before! And we who toss and lie awake for long, Breathe deep, and start, to see him pass the door. His head is bowed. He thinks of men and kings.
Página 38 - French and Russian, they matter not, A blow for a blow and a shot for a shot ; We love them not, we hate them not, We hold the Weichsel and Vosges gate.
Página 36 - For wings of terror to obscure Their beauty, and betray the night That keeps for man, above his wars, The tranquil vision of untroubled stars. Pass on, pass on, ye lords of fear! Your footsteps in the sea are red, And black on earth your paths appear With ruined homes and heaps of dead. Pass on, and end your transient reign, And leave the blue of heaven without a stain. The wrong ye wrought will fall to dust, The right ye shielded will abide; The world at last will learn to trust In law to guard,...
Página 38 - Take you the folk of the Earth in pay, With bars of gold your ramparts lay, Bedeck the ocean with bow on bow, Ye reckon well, but not well enough now. French and Russian they matter not, A blow for a blow, a shot for a shot, We fight the battle with bronze and steel, And the time that is coming Peace...
Página 38 - Full of envy, of rage, of craft, of gall, Cut off by waves that are thicker than blood. Come let us stand at the Judgment place, An oath to swear to, face to face, An oath of bronze no wind can shake, An oath for our sons and their sons to take. Come, hear the word, repeat the word, Throughout the Fatherland make it heard. We will never forego our hate, We have all but a single hate, We love as one, we hate as one, We have one foe and one alone — ENGLAND! In the Captain's Mess, in the banquet hall,...
Página 19 - Teach us, so, no more to call Guidance supernatural To our help, but — heart and will — Know ourselves responsible For our world of wasted good And our blinded brotherhood. Lord, our God! to whom, from clay, Blood and mire, Thy peoples pray — Not from Thy cathedral's stair Thou hearest : — Thou criest through our prayer For our prayer is but the gate: We, who pray, ourselves are fate.