Faith poems

 / page 198 of 262 /
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Queen Hilda of Virland

© Henry Lawson

PART I
Queen Hilda rode along the lines,
And she was young and fair;
And forward on her shoulders fell

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In The Days When The World Was Wide

© Henry Lawson

The world is narrow and ways are short, and our lives are dull and slow,
For little is new where the crowds resort, and less where the wanderers go;
Greater, or smaller, the same old things we see by the dull road-side --
And tired of all is the spirit that sings
of the days when the world was wide.

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Since Then

© Henry Lawson

I met Jack Ellis in town to-day --
Jack Ellis -- my old mate, Jack --
Ten years ago, from the Castlereagh,
We carried our swags together away
To the Never-Again, Out Back.

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A Vision of Poesy - Part 02

© Henry Timrod

It is not winter yet, but that sweet time
In autumn when the first cool days are past;
A week ago, the leaves were hoar with rime,
And some have dropped before the North wind's blast;
But the mild hours are back, and at mid-noon,
The day hath all the genial warmth of June.

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Black Bonnet

© Henry Lawson

A day of seeming innocence,
A glorious sun and sky,
And, just above my picket fence,
Black Bonnet passing by.

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There Was A Time, I Need Not Name

© George Gordon Byron

There was a time, I need not name,
  Since it will ne'er forgotten be,
When all our feelings were the same
  As still my soul hath been to thee.

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To Be Amused

© Henry Lawson

You ask me to be gay and glad
While lurid clouds of danger loom,
And vain and bad and gambling mad,
Australia races to her doom.

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O World Of Many Worlds

© Wilfred Owen

O World of many worlds, O life of lives,
  What centre hast thou? Where am I?
O whither is it thy fierce onrush drives?
  Fight I, or drift; or stand; or fly?

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My Land and I

© Henry Lawson

They have eaten their fill at your tables spread,
Like friends since the land was won;
And they rise with a cry of "Australia's dead!"
With the wheeze of "Australia's done!"

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Self–Diffidence

© William Cowper

Source of love, and light of day,

Tear me from myself away;

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Matthew Arnold On Hearing Him Read His Poems In Boston

© Katharine Lee Bates

A stranger, schooled to gentle arts,

  He stept before the curious throng;

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The Four Bridges

© Jean Ingelow

I love this gray old church, the low, long nave,
  The ivied chancel and the slender spire;
No less its shadow on each heaving grave,
  With growing osier bound, or living brier;
I love those yew-tree trunks, where stand arrayed
So many deep-cut names of youth and maid.

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May-Day

© Ralph Waldo Emerson

The world rolls round,--mistrust it not,--
Befalls again what once befell;
All things return, both sphere and mote,
And I shall hear my bluebird's note,
And dream the dream of Auburn dell.

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The Old Bark School

© Henry Lawson

It was built of bark and poles, and the floor was full of holes
Where each leak in rainy weather made a pool;
And the walls were mostly cracks lined with calico and sacks –
There was little need for windows in the school.

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The Ballad Of The Drover

© Henry Lawson

Across the stony ridges,
Across the rolling plain,
Young Harry Dale, the drover,
Comes riding home again.

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The Roaring Days

© Henry Lawson

The night too quickly passes
And we are growing old,
So let us fill our glasses
And toast the Days of Gold;

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Maiden Name

© Philip Larkin

Marrying left yor maiden name disused.
Its five light sounds no longer mean your face,
Your voice, and all your variants of grace;
For since you were so thankfully confused

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A Story At Dusk

© Ada Cambridge

An evening all aglow with summer light

And autumn colour-fairest of the year.

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Westward Ho!

© Dinah Maria Mulock Craik

We should not sit us down and sigh,
My girl, whose brow a fane appears,
Whose steadfast eyes look royally
Backwards and forwards o'er the years--

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O Black And Unknown Bards

© James Weldon Johnson

O black and unknown bards of long ago,

How came your lips to touch the sacred fire?