Car poems
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The Mother Mary
© George MacDonald
Mary, to thee the heart was given
For infant hand to hold,
And clasp thus, an eternal heaven,
The great earth in its fold.
The Circumcision Of Christ
© John Keble
The year begins with Thee,
And Thou beginn'st with woe,
To let the world of sinners see
That blood for sin must flow.
Jesus, by Whose Grace I Live
© Augustus Montague Toplady
Jesus, by whose grace I live,
From the fear of evil kept,
Thou has lengthen'd my reprieve,
Held in being while I slept.
With the day my heart renew;
Let me wake thy will to do.
Saving Love
© Mathilde Blind
Yea, love the Abiding in the Universe
Which was before, and will be after us.
Nor yet for ever hanker and vainly cry
For human love-the beings that change or die;
Die-change-forget: to care so is a curse,
Yet cursed we'll be rather than not care thus.
The House Of Dust: Part 03: 10:
© Conrad Aiken
From time to time, lifting his eyes, he sees
The soft blue starlight through the one small window,
The moon above black trees, and clouds, and Venus,
And turns to write . . . The clock, behind ticks softly.
Of My Lady Isabella Playing The Lute
© Edmund Waller
Such moving sounds from such a careless touch,
So unconcerned herself, and we so much!
Breakers
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
When you launch your bark for sailing
On the sea of life, O youth!
Clothe your heart and soul and spirit
In the blessèd garb of Truth.
Fidele's Grassy Tomb
© Sir Henry Newbolt
The Squire sat propped in a pillowed chair,
His eyes were alive and clear of care,
But well he knew that the hour was come
To bid good-bye to his ancient home.
To-- Yet look on me
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
Yet look on me -- take not thine eyes away,
Which feed upon the love within mine own,
Which is indeed but the reflected ray
Of thine own beauty from my spirit thrown.
For Thee
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
What woes are there
I would not choose to bear
For thy dear sake?
Curses were blest, the ache
The Glory of the Garden
© Rudyard Kipling
Our England is a garden that is full of stately views,
Of borders, beds and shrubberies and lawns and avenues,
Written in Milton's PARADISE LOST.
© Mather Byles
Had I, O had I all the tuneful Arts
Of lofty Verse; did ev'ry Muse inspire
The Shepherd's Week : Friday; or, The Dirge
© John Gay
Grubbinol.
Ah Bumkinet! since thou from hence wert gone,
From these sad plains all merriment is flown;
Should I reveal my grief 'twould spoil thy cheer,
And make thine eye o'erflow with many a tear.
The Old Manor House
© Ada Cambridge
An old house, crumbling half away, all barnacled and lichen-grown,
Of saddest, mellowest, softest grey,-with a grand history of its own-
Grand with the work and strife and tears of more than half a thousand years.
At The Birth Of An Age
© Robinson Jeffers
V
GUDRUN (standing this side of the closing curtains; 'with Chrysothemis.
Carling has left her, going
A Sea Dream
© John Greenleaf Whittier
We saw the slow tides go and come,
The curving surf-lines lightly drawn,
The gray rocks touched with tender bloom
Beneath the fresh-blown rose of dawn.
The Wind Of Summer
© Madison Julius Cawein
From the hills and far away
All the long, warm summer day
Comes the wind and seems to say:
To A Blossoming Pear Tree
© James Wright
I flinched. Both terrified,
We slunk away,
Each in his own way dodging
The cruel darts of the cold.
