Faith poems
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The Recruit
© Coleman Helena Jane
Through all the anguish of these days, The haunting horror and the woe,One thought can set my heart ablaze My memory aglow.
The Reeve's Prologue and Tale from the Hengwrt Manuscript of the Canterbury Tales
© Geoffrey Chaucer
¶The
pro
loge / of the Reues tale Whan folk hadde laughen / at this nyce cas Of Ab{s}olon / and hende Nicholas Di
uer
Sonnets from the Portuguese: XXXIX
© Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Because thou hast the power and own'st the graceTo look through and behind this mask of me(Against which, years have beat thus blanchinglyWith their rains,) and behold my soul's true face,The dim and weary witness of life's race,-Because thou hast the faith and love to see,Through that same soul's distracting lethargy,The patient angel waiting for a placeIn the new Heavens,-because nor sin nor woe,Nor God's infliction, nor death's neighbourhood,Nor all which others viewing, turn to go,Nor all which makes me tired of all, self-viewed,-Nothing repels thee,
Sonnets from the Portuguese: XLIII
© Elizabeth Barrett Browning
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways
Sonnets from the Portuguese 43: How do I Love thee?
© Elizabeth Barrett Browning
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways
1908
© Christopher John Brennan
The droning tram swings westward: shrillthe wire sings overhead, and chillmidwinter draughts rattle the glassthat shows the dusking way I passto yon four-turreted square towerthat still exalts the golden hourwhere youth, initiate once, endearsa treasure richer with the years
The Photographer
© Bramer Shannon
What it means to carry a camerais to speak out of the emptyframe seeing God, Sky, Road, her returnand faith in the perfection of deserts
CLXXXVIII
© Boker George Henry
My darling's features, painted by the light;As in the convex of a mirror, seeHer face diminished so fantasticallyIt scarcely hints her lovely self aright
To One on her Birthday
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
How shall I choose to wish you happinessOn this day or another? Your life's wayHas passed already far beyond our guess,Who only watch and wait for you and pray
The Grave
© Jean Blewett
O the grave is a quiet place, my dear, So still and so quiet by night and by day,Reached by no sound either joyous or drear, But keeping its silence alway, alway.
