Faith poems
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Sonnet CXLI
© William Shakespeare
In faith, I do not love thee with mine eyes,
For they in thee a thousand errors note;
But 'tis my heart that loves what they despise,
Who in despite of view is pleased to dote;
Ave Maria
© Alfred Austin
In the ages of Faith, before the day
When men were too proud to weep or pray,
Sonnet CLII
© William Shakespeare
In loving thee thou know'st I am forsworn,
But thou art twice forsworn, to me love swearing,
In act thy bed-vow broke and new faith torn,
In vowing new hate after new love bearing.
Hope Deferred
© George MacDonald
Thus ringed eternally, to parted graves,
The sundered doors into one palace home,
Stumbling through age's thickets, we will go,
Faltering but faithful-willing to lie low,
Willing to part, not willing to deny
The lovely past, where all the futures lie.
Sonnet 66: Tired with all these, for restful death I cry
© William Shakespeare
Tired with all these, for restful death I cry,
As to behold desert a beggar born,
And needy nothing trimmed in jollity,
And purest faith unhappily forsworn,
The Fairy Thorn-Tree
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
And so, 'tis said, if to that fairy thorn-tree
You dare to go, you see her ghost so lone,
She prays for love of her that you will aid her,
And give your soul to buy her back her own.
The Destiny Of Nations. A Vision.
© Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Auspicious Reverence! Hush all meaner song,
Ere we the deep preluding strain have poured
To the Great Father, only Rightful King,
Eternal Father! King Omnipotent!
To the Will Absolute, the One, the Good!
The I AM, the Word, the Life, the Living God!
To the Immortal Memory and Friendship of That Noble Pair, Sir Lucius Cary and Sir H. Morison
© Benjamin Jonson
The Turn
Brave infant of Saguntum, clear
Sonnet 152: In loving thee thou know'st I am forsworn
© William Shakespeare
In loving thee thou know'st I am forsworn,
But thou art twice forsworn to me love swearing:
In act thy bed-vow broke and new faith torn
In vowing new hate after new love bearing.
The Century Of Garibaldi
© George Meredith
That aim, albeit they were of minds diverse,
Conjoined them, not to strive without surcease;
For them could be no babblement of peace
While lay their country under Slavery's curse.
Power Of Music
© William Wordsworth
AN Orpheus! an Orpheus! yes, Faith may grow bold,
And take to herself all the wonders of old;--
Near the stately Pantheon you'll meet with the same
In the street that from Oxford hath borrowed its name.
The Vain Question
© Ada Cambridge
Why should we court the storms that rave and rend,
Safe at our household hearth?
Why, starved and naked, without home or friend,
Unknowing whence we came or where we wend,
Follow from no beginning to no end
An uncrowned martyr's path?
Sonnet 141: In faith, I do not love thee with mine eyes
© William Shakespeare
In faith, I do not love thee with mine eyes,
For they in thee a thousand errors note;
But 'tis my heart that loves what they despise,
Who in despite of view is pleased to dote.
A Vision of Poesy - Part 01
© Henry Timrod
In a far country, and a distant age,
Ere sprites and fays had bade farewell to earth,
A boy was born of humble parentage;
The stars that shone upon his lonely birth
Did seem to promise sovereignty and fame -
Yet no tradition hath preserved his name.
Last Night
© Christina Georgina Rossetti
Where were you last night? I watched at the gate;
I went down early, I stayed down late.
Were you snug at home, I should like to know,
Or were you in the coppice wheedling Kate?
A Mountain Spring
© Henry Kendall
Peace hath an altar there. The sounding feet
Of thunder and the wildering wings of rain
To The City Of Bombay
© Rudyard Kipling
The Cities are full of pride,
Challenging each to each -
This from her mountain-side,
That from her burthened beach.
October, 1803
© William Wordsworth
. These times strike monied worldlings with dismay:
Even rich men, brave by nature, taint the air
The Ballad of St. Barbara
© Gilbert Keith Chesterton
When the long grey lines came flooding upon Paris in the plain,
We stood and drank of the last free air we never could taste again;
They had led us back from a lost battle, to halt we knew not where,
And stilled us; and our gaping guns were dumb with our despair.
The grey tribes flowed for ever from the infinite lifeless lands,
And a Norman to a Breton spoke, his chin upon his hands:
