Faith poems
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Sonnet 69: Oh Joy, Too High For My Low Style
© Sir Philip Sidney
Oh joy, too high for my low style to show:
Oh bliss, fit for a nobler state than me:
Envy, put out thine eyes, lest thou do see
What oceans of delight in me do flow.
A Holocaust
© Francis Thompson
'No man ever attained supreme knowledge, unless his heart had been
torn up by the roots.'
Stanzas To the Memory Of George III
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
'Among many nations was there no King like him.' Nehemiah, xiii, 26.
'Know ye not that there is a prince and a great man fallen this day in Israel?' 2 Samuel, iii, 38.
L'Envoi
© James Russell Lowell
Whether my heart hath wiser grown or not,
In these three years, since I to thee inscribed,
Friendships Mystery, To my Dearest Lucasia
© Katherine Philips
Come, my Lucasia, since we see
That Miracles Mens faith do move,
By wonder and by prodigy
To the dull angry world lets prove
Theres a Religion in our Love.
The New Year
© Emma Lazarus
Look where the mother of the months uplifts
In the green clearness of the unsunned West,
Her ivory horn of plenty, dropping gifts,
Cool, harvest-feeding dews, fine-winnowed light;
Tired labor with fruition, joy and rest
Profusely to requite.
English Eclogues VI - The Ruined Cottage
© Robert Southey
I pass this ruin'd dwelling oftentimes
And think of other days. It wakes in me
A transient sadness, but the feelings Charles
That ever with these recollections rise,
I trust in God they will not pass away.
Epilogue to Schiller's Song of the Bell
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Mingled the crowds from ev'ry region brought,
And on the stage, in festal pomp array'd
The HOMAGE OF THE ARTS we saw displayed.
Paradise Lost: Book I (1674)
© Patrick Kavanagh
So spake th' Apostate Angel, though in pain,
Vaunting aloud, but rackt with deep despare:
And him thus answer'd soon his bold Compeer.
On the Lord General Fairfax at the Siege of Colchester
© Patrick Kavanagh
Fairfax, whose name in arms through Europe rings
Filling each mouth with envy, or with praise,
England
© Sir Henry Newbolt
Praise thou with praise unending,
The Master of the Wine;
To all their portions sending
Himself he mingled thine:
Tone's Grave
© Thomas Osborne Davis
In Bodenstown Churchyard there is a green grave,
And wildly along it the winter winds rave;
Small shelter, I ween, are the ruined walls there,
When the storm sweeps down on the plains of Kildare.
Hymn For The Opening Of Thomas Starr Kings House Of Worship, 1864
© John Greenleaf Whittier
Amidst these glorious works of Thine,
The solemn minarets of the pine,
And awful Shasta's icy shrine,--
Naucratia; Or Naval Dominion. Part III.
© Henry James Pye
Arm'd in her cause, on Chalgrave's fatal plain,
Where sorrowing Freedom mourns her Hambden slain,
Say, shall the moralizing bard presume
From his proud hearse to tear one warlike plume,
Because a Cæsar or a Cromwell wore
An impious wreath, wet with their country's gore?
Oiling
© Norman Rowland Gale
Excuse me, Sweetheart, if I smear,
With wisdom learnt from ancient teachers,
Elegy XXIV. He Takes Occasion, From the Fate of Eleanor of Bretagne
© William Shenstone
When Beauty mourns, by Fate's injurious doom,
Hid from the cheerful glance of human eye,
When Nature's pride inglorious waits the tomb,
Hard is that heart which checks the rising sigh.
For The Marriage of Faustus and Helen
© Hart Crane
There is the world dimensional for
those untwisted by the love of things
irreconcilable ...
