Book Club Journal
A Prayer for my Daughter
A Prayer for my Daughter by W.B Yeats. From Michael Robartes and the Dancer (Cuala Press, 1921)
The Soldier
“The Soldier” is a poem written by Rupert Brooke. It is the fifth and final sonnet in the sequence 1914, published posthumously in 1915 in the collection 1914 and Other Poems. The manuscript is located at King’s College, Cambridge
Four War Poems
Four War Poems Poem by Sheena Blackhall
In Flanders Fields
“In Flanders Fields” is a war poem in the form of a rondeau, written during the First World War by Canadian physician Lieutenant-Colonel John McCrae
Two Poems From The War
Oh, not the loss of the accomplished thing!
Not dumb farewells, nor long relinquishment
Of beauty had, and golden summer spent,
And savage glory of the fluttering
Torn banners of the rain, and frosty ring
Of moon-white winters, and the imminent
Long-lunging seas, and glowing students bent
To race on some smooth beach the gull’s wing:
Dulce et Decorum Est
“Dulce et Decorum Est” is a poem written by Wilfred Owen during World War I, and published posthumously in 1920. Its Latin title is from a verse written by the Roman poet Horace: Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori. In English, this means “it is sweet and proper to die for one’s country
Be not Sad by James Joyce
Be Not Sad Poem by James Joyce
Be not sad because all men
Prefer a lying clamour before you:
Dirge by William Shakespeare
Dirge Poem by William Shakespeare
COME away, come away, death,
And in sad cypres let me be laid;
Fly away, fly away, breath;
I am slain by a fair cruel maid.
My shroud of white, stuck all with yew,
O prepare it!
My part of death, no one so true
Did share it.
And Ask Ye Why These Sad Tears Stream
‘and Ask Ye Why These Sad Tears Stream?’ Poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson
Clown in the Moon
clown in the moon by Dylan thomas
My tears are like the quiet drift
Of petals from some magic rose;
And all my grief flows from the rift
Of unremembered skies and snows.
A Sad Child
A Sad Child by Margaret Atwood
You’re sad because you’re sad.
It’s psychic. It’s the age. It’s chemical.
Go see a shrink or take a pill,
or hug your sadness like an eyeless doll
you need to sleep.
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