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                                     Table of Contents

WAR

I Hate That Drum's Discordant Sound   John Scott                              5

In Flanders Fields (Canadian)   John McCrae                                       6                     

To Germany   Charles Hamilton Sorley                                               7

The Charge of the Light Brigade   Alfred Lord Tennyson                      8                 

Borodino (Russian) Mikhail Lermontov                                             10

HOPE

Hope   Ryanne Askar                                                                     14

Ulysses   Alfred Lord Tennyson                                                       16

Let Peace Begin   Don Nielsen                                                         17

"Hope" is the thing with feathers   Emily Dickinson                           18

What is Hope   Vineet Bansal                                                          19

Appendix

Poetic Devices                                                                             21

Alliteration                                                                                     21

Allusion                                                                                          23

Assonance                                                                                      24

Cacophony                                                                                     26

Consonance                                                                                    27 

Figure of Speech                                                     30

Imagery                                                                                         31

Metaphor                                                                                        34

Personification                                                                                35

Simile                                                                                             37

Critical Interpretations

I Hate That Drum's Discordant Sound

To Germany

What is Hope

Personal Responses

Borodino

Hope

Biographies

Mikhail Yuryevich Lermontov

Emily Elizabeth Dickinson

            WAR

I Hate That Drum’s Discordant Sound 

By: John Scott

 I hate that drum's discordant sound,

Parading round, and round, and round:

To thoughtless youth it pleasure yields,

And lures from cities and from fields,

To sell their liberty for charms

Of tawdry lace and glittering arms;

And when Ambition's voice commands,

To fight and fall in foreign lands.

I hate that drum's discordant sound,

Parading round, and round, and round:

To me it talks of ravaged plains,

And burning towns and ruined swains,

And mangled limbs, and dying groans,

And widow's tears, and orphans moans,

And all that Misery's hand bestows,

To fill a catalogue of human woes.

Source: Book "The Poet's Craft"

  In Flanders Fields (Canadian)

          By: John McCrae 

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.

Take up our quarrel with the foe: 

To you from failing hands we throw

The Torch: be yours to hold it high! 

If ye break faith with us who die

We shall not sleep, though poppies grow

In Flanders fields

Source: 

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/in-

flanders-fields-by-dr-john-mccrae/           Poem 

Hunter

                           To Germany

                By: Charles Hamilton Sorley

You are blind like us. Your hurt no man designed,

And no man claimed the conquest of your land.

But gropers both through fields of thought confined

We stumble and we do not understand.

You only saw your future bigly planned,

And we, the tapering paths of our own mind,

And in each other's dearest ways we stand,

And hiss and hate. And the blind fight the blind.

When it is peace, then we may view again

With new-won eyes each other's truer form

And wonder. Grown more loving-kind and warm

We'll grasp firm hands and laugh at the old pain,

When it is peace. But until peace, the storm,

The darkness and the thunder and the rain.

Source: Book “War Poems”

                               The Charge of the Light Brigade                

                                   By: Alfred Lord Tennyson

Half a league, half a league,                           Cannon in front of them

Half a league onward,                                     Volleyed and thundered;

All in the valley of Death                                 Stormed at with shot and shell,

Rode the six hundred.                                     Boldly they rode and well,

“Forward, the Light Brigade!                           Into the jaws of Death,

Charge for the guns!” he said.                        Into the mouth of hell

Into the valley of Death                                   Rode the six hundred. 

Rode the six hundred.

                                                                       Flashed all their sabres bare,                                                                 

“Forward, the Light Brigade!”                          Flashed as they turned in air 

Was there a man dismayed?                           Sabring the gunners there,   

Not though the soldier knew                           Charging an army, while

Someone had blundered.                                All the world wondered.

Theirs not to make reply,                                 Plunged in the battery-smoke

Theirs not to reason why,                               Right through the line they broke;

Theirs but to do and die.

Into the valley of Death                                  Cossack and Russian 

Rode the six hundred.                                     Reeled from the sabre stroke

                                                                      Shattered and sundered.

Cannon to right of them,                                Then they rode back, but not

Cannon to left of them,                                   Not the six hundred.   

Cannon to right of them,

Cannon to left of them,

Cannon behind them

Volleyed and thundered;

Stormed at with shot and shell,

While horse and hero fell.

They that had fought so well

Came through the jaws of Death,

Back from the mouth of hell,

All that was left of them,

Left of six hundred.

When can their glory fade?

O the wild charge they made!

All the world wondered.

Honour the charge they made!

Honour the Light Brigade,

Noble six hundred!

Source: Book “War Poems”

           Borodino (Russian)

          By: Mihail Lermontov

–HEY tell, old man, had we a cause 

When Moscow, razed by fire, once was 

Given up to Frenchman's blow? 

Old-timers talk about some frays, 

And they remember well those days! 

With cause all Russia fashions lays 

About Borodino! 

– Yea, were there men when I was young, 

Whose songs your tribe is not to’ve sung: 

They'd fight, – you’re none as good! 

An evil lot have they been drawn: 

Few left the grounds to which they had gone... 

Had it not been God's will alone, 

Old Moscow should have stood! 

Retreating this day and the next, 

We wonder'd when's our battle, vext; 

The veterans talk'd upset: 

"What then? we're off to winter dorms? 

Go the commanders by new norms; 

Daren't they rip foreign uniforms 

On Russian bayonet?" 

And then we had come upon a plain:          Then I dozed off beside our gun,                     

Here's room to fight with might and main!   And not until the dawn, was done 

There built we a redoubt.                            The revel of the French. 

Our troops are curt on high alert!                But quiet was our open camp: 

Soon as sun's beams on cannon spurt,       His shako with a brush one’d scamp,        

And on the bluish wood-tops squirt –         Cross-hearted, would another tramp, 

The Frenchmen march right out.                  His sharpen'd bayonet clench. 

I drove the shell in tight: well isn't              And once the sky lit from its border –   

It meet our guest receive a present!        Formations, gleaming, pass'd in order, 

Hold off, my friend Moosue! (Monsieur)       With shouts all took its berth. 

Who needs these games, why not begin;   Our colonel's mettle did you feel: 

Those left alive will wall you in,                   Czar's servant, soldiers' father real...      

If this be what it takes to win                     Yea, 'tis a pity: slain by steel, 

Our motherland from you!                           Now sleeps he in black earth. 

Two-days'-worth pass'd in trading shots.    And eyes aflame, he spoke his mind: 

Why give of that too many thoughts?          "Hey lads! is Moscow not behind? 

We waited third day on.                               By Moscow then we die 

Words started then to fly to the ear:           As have our brethren died before!" 

"'Tis time we use the grape-shot, hear!"     And that we'll die we all then swore, 

And now the field of carnage sheer             And th' oath of loyalty ne'er tore 

The pall of night does don.                          Neath Borodinian sky. 

Some day it was! Through flying smoke      

Set out in swarms many a French bloke,      

And e'er for our redoubt.                             

The lancers in their motley guise,              

Dragoons with horse-tails with loud cries–  

They all would flash before our eyes,           

They all were near about.                           

You're never to behold such fights!..     

The banners would fly by like sprites,    

In smoke would glimmer fire,                

The blade would sound, the grape would shriek, 

The fighters' hand to thrust grow weak, 

And muzzles have no space to seek 

O'er bloody heaps e'er higher. 

The foe that day had many ways 

To feel what daring combat weighs, 

Our Russian hand-to-hand!.. 

As did our chests – earth's hollows trembled; 

The steeds, the men all disassembled, 

And cannon volleys' sound resembled 

A moaning o'er the land... 

Dusk fell. We all were ready to 

Next morrow start the fight anew 

And stand till none were left... 

Of drums we heard far off the rattle: – 

The pagans left the field of battle. 

To count then we began the sad toll 

Of wounds and comrades reft. 

Yea, were there men when I was young, 

Bold tribe of whom shall songs be sung: 

They'd fight, – you’re none as good. 

An evil lot have they been drawn: 

Few left the grounds to which they had gone. 

Were’t not the will of God alone, 

Old Moscow would have stood!

Source: http://www.stihi-

rus.ru/1/Lermontov/11-1.htm

                                                   HOPE

                                        Hope

                           By: Ryanne Askar 

Hope is a dream                                Hope is you

one that never ends                          hope is me

hope is a friend                                 hope is what you want it to be

one never leaves                                           

                                                       the thing that never leaves                                    

Hope is a drum beat                          never ask anything in return 

that guides your                                hope.....

hope plays a song 

a song of life                          

Hope is love                                   

sweet and fragile                          

hope is a door                               

one that never closes

Hope is the soul                            

the thing that never dies              

the thing that never stops caring 

the thing that never stops loving

Hope is the light that keeps away the darkness

hope is the thing that keeps us going

the thing that gives meaning in living 

the thing that knows no bounds

the thing that has to limits

Hope is the thing that drives you

the one thing that never betrays you

the thing that knows you the best

Hope is tomorrow

hope is the heart 

hope is sorrow 

hope is a broken heart 

Hope is a reason

to do the right thing

to do our best

Is life with out hope

life at all? 

Source: http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/hope-528/

Poem Hunter

                        Ulysses

                    - an excerpt

        By : Alfred Lord Tennysson

The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks; 

The long day wanes; the slow moon climbs; the deep 

Moans round with many voices. Come, my friends. 

'T is not too late to seek a newer world. 

Push off, and sitting well in order smite 

The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds 

To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths 

Of all the western stars, until I die. 

It may be that the gulfs will wash us down; 

It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles, 

And see the great Achilles, whom we knew. 

Tho' much is taken, much abides; and tho' 

We are not now that strength which in old days 

Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are,-- 

One equal temper of heroic hearts, 

Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will 

To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield. 

Source: Book “The Poet’s Craft”

         Let Peace Begin

         By: Don Nielsen

Sound of thunder, flash of light;

Children screaming, the sound of fright.

The bombs that fall, from up above;

They take away, those that we love.

Cursing, swearing, "how do they dare";

Kill our people, for whom we care.

War is hell, just can't win;

Pray to God, let peace begin

Source: 

http://www.familyfriendpoems.com/poem/

let-peace-begin#ixzz3FsbCdTB6 

Family Friend Poems 

“Hope” is the thing with feathers

By: Emily Dickinson

“Hope” is the thing with feathers -

That perches in the soul -

And sings the tune without the words -

And never stops - at all -

And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard -

And sore must be the storm -

That could abash the little Bird

That kept so many warm -

I’ve heard it in the chillest land -

And on the strangest Sea -

Yet - never - in Extremity,

It asked a crumb - of me.

Source: 

http://www.poetryinvoice.com/poems/ho

pe-thing-feathers

What is Hope

By: Vineet Bansal

What hope means 

Hope is bright shining light which keeps darkness at the bay 

Hope is gentle cold breeze on a hot summer day 

Hope is to remain positive when going gets tough 

hope is seeking more when others think you had enough 

What hope means 

Hope is dreaming of tomorrow 

Hope is simmering under sorrow 

Hope is sparkles when tears in our eyes 

Hope is a beautiful thing & beautiful things never dies 

What hope means 

Hope is as light as a feather 

Hope keeps all of us together 

                       Hope is ubiquitous and free of cost 

                        hope is the last thing ever lost....

Source: http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/what-is-hope-2/

Poem Hunter

                                           POETIC DEVICES

                                                        Alliteration

I hate that drum's discordant sound, - “I Hate That Drum’s Discordant 

Sound”

To thoughtless youth it pleasure yields, - “I Hate That Drum’s Discordant 

Sound”

To fight and fall in foreign lands. – “I Hate That Drum’s Discordant Sound”

To you from failing hands we throw

The Torch: be yours to hold it high! – “In Flanders Fields” 

And no man claimed the conquest of your land.

But gropers both through fields of thought confined – “To Germany”

Stormed at with shot and shell – “The Charge of the Light Brigade”

Charging an army, while

   All the world wondered. – “The Charge of the Light Brigade”

Reeled from the sabre   stroke

   Shattered and sundered. – “The Charge of the Light Brigade”

While horse and hero fell.

   They that had fought so well – “The Charge of the Light Brigade”

Old-timers talk about some frays – “Borodino”

Yea, were there men when I was young, - “Borodino” 

We wonder'd when's our battle, vext; - “Borodino”

Soon as sun's beams on cannon spurt, - “Borodino” 

Who needs these games, why not begin; 

   Those left alive will wall you in, - “Borodino”

To count then we began the sad toll – “Borodino” 

Why give of that too many thoughts? – “Borodino”

Czar's servant, soldiers' father real... 

   Yea, 'tis a pity: slain by steel, - “Borodino”

Bold tribe of whom shall songs be sung – “Borodino”

the thing that never dies – “Hope”

Moans round with many voices. Come, my friends. – “Ulysses”

They take away, those that we love. – “Let Peace Begin”

                            Allusion

And when Ambition's voice commands, - “I Hate That Drum’s Discordant 

Sound”

And all that Misery's hand bestows, - “I Hate That Drum’s Discordant Sound”

We are the Dead. Short days ago – “In Flanders Fields”

Into the valley of Death – “The Charge of the Light Brigade”

Into the mouth of hell – “The Charge of the Light Brigade”

Had it not been God's will alone, - “Borodino”

Czar's servant, soldiers' father real... – “Borodino”

Neath Borodinian sky. – “Borodino”

The pagans left the field of battle. – “Borodino”

It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles, - “Ulysses”

And see the great Achilles, whom we knew. – “Ulysses”

War is hell, just can't win; - “Let Peace Begin”

Pray to God, let peace begin – “Let Peace Begin”

                                                  Assonance

In Flanders fields the poppies blow

   Between the crosses, row on row – “In Flanders Fields”

That mark our place: and in the sky

   The larks still bravely singing, fly

   Scarce heard amid the guns below. – “In Flanders Fields”

We are the Dead. Short days ago

   We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow, - “In Flanders Fields”

If ye break faith with us who die – “In Flanders Fields”

You are blind like us. Your hurt no man designed, - “To Germany”

And in each other's dearest ways we stand,

   And hiss and hate. And the blind fight the blind. 

  When it is peace. But until peace, the storm, – “To Germany”

Into the valley of Death – “The Charge of the Light Brigade”

Volleyed and thundered;

   Stormed at with shot and shell,

   Boldly they rode and well, - “The Charge of the Light Brigade”

When can their glory fade?

   O the wild charge they made! – “The Charge of the Light Brigade”

HEY tell, old man, had we a cause 

   When Moscow, razed by fire, once was – “Borodino"

Old-timers talk about some frays, 

   And they remember well those days!  

   With cause all Russia fashions lays – “Borodino” 

Yea, were there men when I was young, - “Borodino”

An evil lot have they been drawn: 

   Few left the grounds to which they had gone... – “Borodino”

"What then? we're off to winter dorms? 

    Go the commanders by new norms; 

    Daren't they rip foreign uniforms – “Borodino”

There built we a redoubt. – “Borodino”

If this be what it takes to win – “Borodino”

Then I dozed off beside our gun, 

   And not until the dawn, was done – “Borodino”

The revel of the French. – “Borodino”

Yea, 'tis a pity: slain by steel, 

   Now sleeps he in black earth. – “Borodino”

In smoke would glimmer fire, 

   The blade would sound, the grape would shriek, 

   The fighters' hand to thrust grow weak, 

   And muzzles have no space to seek 

   O'er bloody heaps e'er higher. – “Borodino”

one that never ends

   hope is a friend – “Hope”

                                 Cacophony

And burning towns and ruined swains,

   And mangled limbs, and dying groans,

   And widow's tears, and orphans moans, - “I Hate That Drum’s Discordant            

Sound”

Take up our quarrel with the foe: 

   To you from failing hands we throw – “In Flanders Fields”

When it is peace. But until peace, the storm,

   The darkness and the thunder and the rain. – “To Germany”

Volleyed and thundered;

   Stormed at with shot and shell – “The Charge of the Light Brigade”

Flashed all their sabres bare,

   Flashed as they turned in air

   Sabring the gunners there,

   Charging an army, while – “The Charge of the Light Brigade”

Reeled from the sabre stroke

   Shattered and sundered. – “The Charge of the Light Brigade”

The lancers in their motley guise, 

   Dragoons with horse-tails with loud cries – 

   They all would flash before our eyes, - “Borodino”

The blade would sound, the grape would shriek, - “Borodino”

Sound of thunder, flash of light;

   Children screaming, the sound of fright.      – “Let Peace Begin”

                                                 Consonance

I hate that drum's discordant sound,

   Parading round, and round, and round: - “I Hate That Drum’s Discordant    

Sound”

To thoughtless youth it pleasure yields, - “I Hate That Drum’s Discordant 

Sound”

And burning towns and ruined swains,

   And mangled limbs, and dying groans,

   And widow's tears, and orphans moans, - “I Hate That Drum’s Discordant 

Sound”

In Flanders fields the poppies blow – “In Flanders Fields”

Between the crosses, row on row

   That mark our place: and in the sky – “In Flanders Fields”

When it is peace, then we may view again

   With new-won eyes each other's truer form

   And wonder. Grown more loving-kind and warm – “To Germany”

When it is peace. But until peace, the storm,

   The darkness and the thunder and the rain. – “To Germany”

Half a league, half a league,

   Half a league onward,

   All in the valley of Death – “The Charge of the Light Brigade”

Volleyed and thundered;

   Stormed at with shot and shell,

   Boldly they rode and well,

   Into the jaws of Death, - “The Charge of the Light Brigade”

Given up to Frenchman's blow? 

   Old-timers talk about some frays, 

   And they remember well those days! – “Borodino”

Whose songs your tribe is not to 've sung: - “Borodino”

"What then? we're off to winter dorms? 

   Go the commanders by new norms; 

   Daren't they rip foreign uniforms 

   On Russian bayonet?"   - “Borodino”

And then we had come upon a plain: 

   Here's room to fight with might and main – “Borodino”

Soon as sun's beams on cannon spurt, - “Borodino”

I drove the shell in tight: well isn't 

   It meet our guest receive a present! – “Borodino”

Then I dozed off beside our gun, 

   And not until the dawn, was done 

   The revel of the French.   – “Borodino”

And cannon volleys' sound resembled 

   A moaning o'er the land... – “Borodino”

And eyes aflame, he spoke his mind: 

   "Hey lads! is Moscow not behind? – “Borodino”

hope is what you want it to be – “Hope”

The long day wanes; the slow moon climbs; the deep 

   Moans round with many voices. Come, my friends. – “Ulysses”

Push off, and sitting well in order smite 

   The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds 

   To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths – “Ulysses”

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