Faith poems
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Mount Tabor
© John Hay
They bowed their heads in holy fright,--
No mortal eyes could bear the sight,--
And when they looked again, behold!
The fiery clouds had backward rolled,
And borne aloft in grandeur lonely,
Nothing was left "save Jesus only."
By The Seaside : The Building Of The Ship
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
On the deck another bride
Is standing by her lover's side.
Shadows from the flags and shrouds,
Like the shadows cast by clouds,
Broken by many a sunny fleck,
Fall around them on the deck.
A Servant When He Reigneth
© Rudyard Kipling
Three things make earth unquiet
And four she cannot brook
The Man of Sentiment
© Kenneth Slessor
Part One
[A walled garden of York. It is an August Sunday, and the baying of deep church-bells is blown faintly in a warm wind. Laurence Sterne, prebendary, aged forty-six, and Catherine de Fromantel, a girl who sings at Ranelagh, are dawdling through the arbours, and pause at a path which runs between hedges and cypress-trees round a corner some fifty yards away. Catherine has walked down such a path before, it is to be feared, and halts cautiously upon its fringes.]
Laurence:
Nay, 'tis no Devil's walk,
Peter Bell The Third
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
Is it a party in a parlour,
Crammed just as they on earth were crammed,
Some sipping punch-some sipping tea;
But, as you by their faces see,
All silent, and all-damned!
Peter Bell, by W. Wordsworth.
The Primrose of the Rock
© William Wordsworth
The flowers, still faithful to the stems,
Their fellowship renew;
The stems are faithful to the root,
That worketh out of view;
And to the rock the root adheres
In every fibre true.
The White Doe Of Rylstone, Or, The Fate Of The Nortons - Canto Fifth
© William Wordsworth
HIGH on a point of rugged ground
Among the wastes of Rylstone Fell
Above the loftiest ridge or mound
Where foresters or shepherds dwell,
Queen Marys Letter To Bothwell
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Pitiful gods! Have pity on my passion.
Teach me the road how I a certain proving
Shall make to him I love of my great loving,
My faith unchanged, nor plead it in fool's fashion.
The Peace Convention At Brussels
© John Greenleaf Whittier
STILL in thy streets, O Paris! doth the stain
Of blood defy the cleansing autumn rain;
Still breaks the smoke Messina's ruins through,
And Naples mourns that new Bartholomew,
Charleston Retaken. Dec. 14, 1782
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
AS some half-vanquished lion,
Who long hath kept at bay
A band of sturdy foresters
Barring his blood-stained way--
Pharsalia - Book IX: Cato
© Marcus Annaeus Lucanus
Such were the words he spake; and soon the fleet
Had dared the angry deep: but Cato's voice
While praising, calmed the youthful chieftain's rage.
Expostulation
© William Cowper
Why weeps the muse for England? What appears
In England's case to move the muse to tears?
Hymn For The Celebration Of Emancipation At Newburyport
© John Greenleaf Whittier
NOT unto us who did but seek
The word that burned within to speak,
Not unto us this day belong
The triumph and exultant song.
Though short thy span, God's unimpeach'd decrees
© George Canning
Though short thy span, God's unimpeach'd decrees,
Which made that shorten'd span one long disease,
Modern Greece
© Richard Monckton Milnes
As, in the legend which our childhood loved,
The destined prince was guided to the bed,
Where, many a silent year, the charmèd Maid
Lay still, as though she were not; nor could wake,
Virgils Gnat
© Edmund Spenser
And whatsoeuer other flowre of worth,
And whatso other hearb of louely hew
The iouyous Spring out of the ground brings forth,
To cloath her selfe in colours fresh and new;
He planted there, and reard a mount of earth,
In whose high front was writ as doth ensue.
Tired
© Augusta Davies Webster
No not to-night, dear child; I cannot go;
I'm busy, tired; they knew I should not come;
you do not need me there. Dear, be content,
and take your pleasure; you shall tell me of it.
There, go to don your miracles of gauze,
and come and show yourself a great pink cloud.
The Sinking Ship
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
The ship is sinking, come ye one and all.
Stand fast and so this weakness overhaul,
St. Bartholomew
© John Keble
Hold up thy mirror to the sun,
And thou shalt need an eagle's gaze,
So perfectly the polished stone
Gives back the glory of his rays:
