Faith poems
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The Hind and the Panther: Part I
© John Dryden
A milk-white Hind, immortal and unchang'd,Fed on the lawns, and in the forest rang'd;Without unspotted, innocent within,She fear'd no danger, for she knew no sin
Retrospect
© Doyle Arthur Conan
There is a better thing, dear heart, Than youthful flush or girlish grace
To the Countess of Bedford [Madam, Reason is our soul's left hand, faith her right...]
© John Donne
Madam,Reason is our soul's left hand, faith her right, By these we reach divinity, that's you;Their loves, who have the blessing of your sight, Grew from their reason, mine from fair faith grew.
To Sir Henry Wotton [Sir, more than kisses, letters mingle souls...]
© John Donne
Sir, more than kisses, letters mingle souls;For thus, friends absent speak
[Recusancy]
© John Donne
Oh, let me not serve so, as those men serve,Whom honour's smokes at once fatten and starve,Poorly enrich't with great men's words or looks ;Nor so write my name in thy loving booksAs those idolatrous flatterers, which stillTheir princes' style with many realms fulfill,Whence they no tribute have, and where no sway
[Image and Dream]
© John Donne
Image of her whom I love, more than she, Whose fair impression in my faithful heart,Makes me her medal, and makes her love me, As kings do coins, to which their stamps impartThe value: go, and take my heart from hence, Which now is grown too great and good for me:Honours oppress weak spirits, and our sense Strong objects dull; the more, the less we see
The Bracelet
© John Donne
Not that in colour it was like thy hair,For armlets of that thou mayst let me wear;Nor that thy hand is oft embrac'd and kiss'd,For so it had that good which oft I miss'd;Not for that seely old morality,That as those links are tied our love should be;Nor for the luck sake; but the bitter cost
"Faith" is fine invention (185)
© Emily Dickinson
"Faith" is a fine inventionFor gentlemen who see,But Microscopes are prudentIn an emergency!
Imbiancato
© Pier Giorgio Di Cicco
A note of thanks to you whenall is said and done, for the little cowboy,for the sonata, for the now and againshimmer of sun that reinstitutes, reinvests
he fell into my arms and said
© Pier Giorgio Di Cicco
he fell into my arms and said"sometimes god takes what we love most. he knows best".i agree.so I made up something as i buried his grandchildren.
Cooper's Hill (1655)
© Sir John Denham
Sure there are poets which did never dreamUpon Parnassus, nor did taste the streamOf Helicon, we therefore may supposeThose made not poets, but the poets those
Cooper's Hill (1642)
© Sir John Denham
Sure we have poets that did never dreamUpon Parnassus, nor did taste the streamOf Helicon, and therefore I supposeThose made not poets, but the poets those
Delia XXXIII
© Samuel Daniel
When men shall find thy flower, thy glory, pass,And thou with careful brow sitting aloneReceived hast this message from thy glass,That tells thee truth and says that all is gone:Fresh shalt thou see in me the wounds thou madest,Though spent thy flame, in me the heat remaining;I that have lov'd thee thus before thou fadest,My faith shall wax when thou art in thy waning
The Dying Raven
© Dana Richard Henry
Come to these lonely woods to die alone?It seems not many days since thou wast heard,From out the mists of spring, with thy shrill note,Calling upon thy mates -- and their clear answers
The Rhyme of the Beast
© Crosland Thomas William Hodgson
Lo, the Beast that rioteth, Sick with hate and coveting --To the sons of men he saith, I will show you a new thing.
How He Died
© Crosby Ernest Howard
So he died for his faith. That is fine. More than most of us do.But stay; can you add to that line That he lived for it too?
Love Letters
© Crosbie Lynn
I would give my husband drawings for grocery lists,with smiling faces on the eggs, and spider feetdangling everywhere
Malcolm's Katie: A Love Story
© Isabella Valancy Crawford
Part IA silver ring that he had beaten outFrom that same sacred coin--first well-priz'd wageFor boyish labour, kept thro' many years
The Parson's Grave
© Craig Thomas
His tombstone tells a tale of woe -- The story of a saddened life --"Here lies the Reverend Jonas Lowe, The victim of a faithless wife."
