A Treasury of War Poetry: British and American Poems of the World War, 1914-1919George Herbert Clarke Houghton, Mifflin Company, 1919 - 361 pagine |
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Altre edizioni - Visualizza tutto
A Treasury of War Poetry: British and American Poems of the World War, 1914-1919 George Herbert Clarke Visualizzazione completa - 1917 |
A Treasury of War Poetry: British and American Poems of the World War, 1914-1919 George Herbert Clarke Visualizzazione completa - 1919 |
A Treasury of War Poetry: British and American Poems of the World War, 1914-1919 George Herbert Clarke Visualizzazione completa - 1919 |
Parole e frasi comuni
Army battle beauty birds blood blow blue brave breath bugles Captain CONNAUGHT RANGERS dark dawn dead death deep Doran Company dreams earth England eyes face fields fight fire flame Flanders flower France Francis Ledwidge George Edward Woodberry ghostly glory golden gone gray green grey guns hand hear heart heaven Hell hills immortal Katharine Tynan kings lads land Laurence Binyon leaving Lieutenant light live Lochaber London look Lord Luthany Lys river Magna Carta Miss morning Neil Munro never Niagara night o'er Oxford peace plain poet poetry pride rain ruin Rupert Brooke SAINT Serbia shadow shine silent singing skies sleep song soul spirit Spring stars sweet sword T. P. Cameron Wilson tears thee There's thine things thou thunder towers trees trench voice waves whisper Wilfrid Wilson Gibson wind wings wood York young Ypres
Brani popolari
Pagina 268 - IN FLANDERS FIELDS In Flanders fields the poppies blow Between the crosses, row on row, That mark our place; and in the sky The larks, still bravely singing, fly Scarce heard amid the guns below. We are the Dead. Short days ago We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow, Loved and were loved, and now we lie In Flanders fields.
Pagina 91 - Only a man harrowing clods In a slow silent walk, With an old horse that stumbles and nods Half asleep as they stalk. Only thin smoke without flame From the heaps of couch-grass; Yet this will go onward the same Though dynasties pass. Yonder a maid and her wight Come whispering by; War's annals will cloud into night Ere their story die.
Pagina 165 - Now, God be thanked Who has matched us with His hour, And caught our youth, and wakened us from sleeping, With hand made sure, clear eye, and sharpened power, To turn, as swimmers into cleanness leaping, Glad from a world grown old and cold and weary...
Pagina 170 - ... shall bring back her children And dry all their tears. But the tears of a would-be War-Lord shall never cease to flow, He shall weep for the poisoned armies whenever the gas-winds blow, He shall always weep for his widows, And all Hell shall know. The tears of a pitiless Kaiser shallow they'll flow and wide, Wide as the desolation made by his silly pride When he slaughtered a little people To stab France in her side. Over the ragged cinders they shall flow on and on With the listless falling...
Pagina 180 - Inch by inch he fought, breathless and mute, Dragging his carcase like a famished brute . . . His head was hammering, and his eyes were dim; A bloody sweat seemed to ooze out of him And freeze along his spine . . . Then he'd lie still Before another effort of his will Took him one nearer yard. The parapet was reached. He could not rise to it. A lookout screeched: 'Mr Gates!' Three figures in one breath Leaped up. Two figures fell in toppling death; And Gates was lifted in. 'Who's hit?
Pagina 173 - Look down on Wantage, passing by, And see the smoke from Swindon town; And then full left at Liddington, Where the four winds of heaven meet The earth-blest traveller to greet. And then my face is toward the south, There is a singing on my mouth; Away to rightward I descry My Barbury ensconced in sky, Far underneath the Ogbourne twins, And at my feet the thyme and whins, The grasses with their little crowns Of gold, the lovely Aldbourne downs, And that old signpost (well I knew That crazy signpost,...
Pagina 267 - Their lives for us loved, too, the sun and the rain? A bird among the rain-wet lilac sings — But we, how shall we turn to little things And listen to the birds and winds and streams Made holy by their dreams, Nor feel the heart-break in the heart of things?
Pagina 268 - In Flanders fields the poppies blow Between the crosses, row on row, That mark our place, and in the sky, The larks, still bravely singing, fly, Scarce heard amid the guns below. We are the dead ; short days ago We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow, Loved and were loved, and now) we lie In Flanders fields.
Pagina 166 - Oh! we, who have known shame, we have found release there, Where there's no ill, no grief, but sleep has mending, Naught broken save this body, lost but breath; Nothing to shake the laughing heart's long peace there But only agony, and that has ending; And the worst friend and enemy is but Death.
Pagina 105 - England, But now that we are far away from England We have no doubts — we know that You are here. You helped us pass the jest along the trenches, Where, in cold blood, we waited in the trenches ; You touched its ribaldry and made it fine. You stood beside us in our pain and weakness; We're glad to think You understand our weakness— Somehow it seems to help us not to whine. We think about You kneeling in the Garden — Ah, God ! the agony of that dread Garden...