Faith poems
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Ode to Superstition
© Samuel Rogers
I. 1.
Hence, to the realms of Night, dire Demon, hence!
Thy chain of adamant can bind
That little world, the human mind,
Little Girls
© Edgar Albert Guest
He knew that earth would never do, unless a bit of Heaven it had.
Men needed eyes divinely blue to toil by day and still be glad.
A world where only men and boys made merry would in time grow stale,
And so He shared His Heavenly joys that faith in Him should never fail.
He sent us down a thousand charms, He decked our ways with golden curls
And laughing eyes and dimpled arms. He let us have His little girls.
The Skylark
© Edith Nesbit
"It is the skylark come." For shame!
Robert-a-Cockney is thy name:
Robert-a-Field would surely know
That skylarks, bless them, never go!
An Ode - Humbly Inscribed To The Queen, On the Glorious Success of Her Majesty's Arms
© Matthew Prior
When great Augustus govern'd ancient Rome,
And sent his conquering bands to foreign wars,
The Muses Threnodie: Fifth Muse
© Henry Adamson
Yet bold attempt and dangerous, said I,
Upon these kinde of men such chance to try,
Evangeline: Part The Second. IV.
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
FAR in the West there lies a desert land, where the mountains
Lift, through perpetual snows, their lofty and luminous summits.
Ode To Despair
© Charlotte Turner Smith
FROM THE NOVEL OF EMMELINE.
THOU spectre of terrific mien!
Lord of the hopeless heart and hollow eye,
In whose fierce train each form is seen
Demand For Courage
© Francis Quarles
Thy life's a warfare, thou a soldier art;
Satan's thy foeman, and a faithful heart
Birthday Lines For K.B.
© Joseph Furphy
Life is a Poem, short or long,
A dismal Dirge, or jovial Song,
A Psalm of faith, or Lay of Pride,
One stanza by each year supplied.
Anti-heroine
© Judith Viorst
I'd planned to be Heathcliff's Cathy,
Lady Brett, Nicole or Dominique or Scarlett O'Hara.
From: A Few Figs From Thistles
© Edna St. Vincent Millay
Oh, think not I am faithful to a vow!
Faithless am I am save to love's self alone.
The Death Of Hood
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
THE maimed and broken warrior lay,
By his last foeman brought to bay.
No sounds of battlefield were there--
The drum's deep bass, the trumpet's blare.
Philadelphia
© John Newton
Thus saith the holy One, and true,
To his beloved faithful few;
Of heav'n and hell I hold the keys,
To shut, or open, as I please.
Ourselves Alone
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
"Oh, why drive me forth from your hearth into exile
And into far dangers? Your house is my own.
Faithful I serve, as I ever did serve you,
Standing together, ourselves—and alone."
The Prisoners Of Naples
© John Greenleaf Whittier
I HAVE been thinking of the victims bound
In Naples, dying for the lack of air
And sunshine, in their close, damp cells of pain,
Where hope is not, and innocence in vain
Thick-headed Thoughts: Part 1
© Adam Lindsay Gordon
I've something of the bull-dog in my breed,
The spaniel is developed somewhat less;
Calef In Boston, 1692
© John Greenleaf Whittier
IN the solemn days of old,
Two men met in Boston town,
One a tradesman frank and bold,
One a preacher of renown.
Sir Eustace Grey
© George Crabbe
And shall I then the fact deny?
I was--thou know'st--I was begone,
Like him who fill'd the eastern throne,
To whom the Watcher cried aloud;
That royal wretch of Babylon,
Who was so guilty and so proud.
To Pius IX
© John Greenleaf Whittier
THE cannon's brazen lips are cold;
No red shell blazes down the air;
And street and tower, and temple old,
Are silent as despair.
