The Dove Of Peace

Here's to the Dove of Peace!
May she find a mate some day,
And may her tribe increase
As fast as she can lay!


With cooing doves galore
Then may the sky be dark
Until the Dogs of War
Can't see each other bark!

Oliver Herford

Oliver Herford was born in England on December 2, 1860. He was a British-born American writer, artist, and illustrator, often referred to as 'The American Oscar Wilde' for his sharp wit and humorous works. Herford authored and illustrated many books for children and adults, contributing to magazines such as "The Criterion", "Life", and "Punch". He died on July 5, 1935, in France.

Oliver Herford

Hafiz

Oliver Herford, Simple Poetry

Foreign Kittens

Oliver Herford, Simple Poetry

The Salamander

Oliver Herford, Simple Poetry

To Our Sweethearts

Oliver Herford, Simple Poetry

English

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Three Doves

Seaward, at morn, my doves flew free;
At eve they circled back to me.
The first was Faith; the second, Hope;
The third - the whitest - Charity.

Above the plunging surge's play
Dream-like they hovered, day by day.
At last they turned, and bore to me
Green signs of peace thro' nightfall gray.

No shore forlorn, no loveliest land
Their gentle eyes had left unscanned,
'Mid hues of twilight-heliotrope
Or daybreak fires by heaven-breath fanned.

Quick visions of celestial grace, -
Hither they waft, from earth's broad space,
Kind thoughts for all humanity.
They shine with radiance from God's face.

Ah, since my heart they choose for home,
Why loose them, - forth again to roam?
Yet look: they rise! with loftier scope
They wheel in f...

George Parsons Lathrop

A Hymn Of Peace

Angel of Peace, thou hast wandered too long!
Spread thy white wings to the sunshine of love!
Come while our voices are blended in song, -
Fly to our ark like the storm-beaten dove!
Fly to our ark on the wings of the dove, -
Speed o'er the far-sounding billows of song,
Crowned with thine olive-leaf garland of love, -
Angel of Peace, thou hast waited too long!

Joyous we meet, on this altar of thine
Mingling the gifts we have gathered for thee,
Sweet with the odors of myrtle and pine,
Breeze of the prairie and breath of the sea, -
Meadow and mountain and forest and sea!
Sweet is the fragrance of myrtle and pine,
Sweeter the incense we offer to thee,
Brothers once more round this altar of thine!

Angels of Bethlehem, answer the strain!
Hark! a new ...

Oliver Wendell Holmes

The Eagle And Dove.

In search of prey once raised his pinions
An eaglet;
A huntsman's arrow came, and reft
His right wing of all motive power.
Headlong he fell into a myrtle grove,
For three long days on anguish fed,
In torment writhed
Throughout three long, three weary nights;
And then was cured,
Thanks to all-healing Nature's
Soft, omnipresent balm.
He crept away from out the copse,
And stretch'd his wing alas!
Lost is all power of flight
He scarce can lift himself
From off the ground
To catch some mean, unworthy prey,
And rests, deep-sorrowing,
On the low rock beside the stream.
Up to the oak he looks,
Looks up to heaven,
While in his noble eye there gleams a tear.
Then, rustling through the myrtle boughs, behold,
There comes a wanton pair of...

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Memorials Of A Tour In Italy, 1837 - X. - Near Anio's Stream, I Spied A Gentle Dove

Near Anio's stream, I spied a gentle Dove
Perched on an olive branch, and heard her cooing
'Mid new-born blossoms that soft airs were wooing,
While all things present told of joy and love.
But restless Fancy left that olive grove
To hail the exploratory Bird renewing
Hope for the few, who, at the world's undoing,
On the great flood were spared to live and move.
O bounteous Heaven! signs true as dove and bough
Brought to the ark are coming evermore,
Given though we seek them not, but, while we plough
This sea of life without a visible shore,
Do neither promise ask nor grace implore
In what alone is ours, the living Now.

William Wordsworth

The Doves.

Reasoning at every step he treads,
Man yet mistakes his way;
While meaner things, whom instinct leads,
Are rarely known to stray.


One silent eve I wanderd late,
And heard the voice of love;
The turtle thus addressd her mate,
And soothed the listening dove:


Our mutual bond of faith and truth
No time shall disengage,
Those blessings of our early youth
Shall cheer our latest age:


While innocence without disguise,
And constancy sincere,
Shall fill the circles of those eyes,
And mine can read them there;


Those ills, that wait on all below,
Shall neer be felt by me,
Or gently felt, and only so,
As being shared with thee.


When lightnings flash among the trees,
Or kites are hoverin...

William Cowper

The Ark And The Dove.

A rain once fell upon the earth
    For many a day and night,
And hid the flowers, the grass, the trees,
    The birds and beasts, from sight.

The deep waves covered all the land,
    And mountain-tops so high;
And nothing could be seen around,
    But water, and the sky.

But yet there was one moving thing,--
    A still and lonely ark,--
That, many a weary day and night,
    Sailed o'er that ocean dark.

At last, a little dove was forth
    From that lone vessel sent;
But, wearied, to the ark again,
    When evening came, she bent.

Again she went, but soon returned,
    And in her beak was seen
A little twig--an olive-branch--
    With leaves of shining green.

The waters sank, and then the dove
    Flew fr...

H. P. Nichols