Faith poems
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337. Song-Fragment-Altho’ he has left me
© Robert Burns
ALTHO’ he has left me for greed o’ the siller,
I dinna envy him the gains he can win;
I rather wad bear a’ the lade o’ my sorrow,
Than ever hae acted sae faithless to him.
314. Song-There’ll never be Peace till Jamie comes hame
© Robert Burns
BY yon Castle wa’, at the close of the day,
I heard a man sing, tho’ his head it was grey:
And as he was singing, the tears doon came,—
There’ll never be peace till Jamie comes hame.
291. Song-The Captive Ribband
© Robert Burns
DEAR Myra, the captive ribband’s mine,
’Twas all my faithful love could gain;
And would you ask me to resign
The sole reward that crowns my pain?
24. Song-No Churchman am I
© Robert Burns
NO churchman am I for to rail and to write,
No statesman nor soldier to plot or to fight,
No sly man of business contriving a snare,
For a big-belly’d bottle’s the whole of my care.
223. Song-The Chevalier’s Lament
© Robert Burns
THE SMALL birds rejoice in the green leaves returning,
The murmuring streamlet winds clear thro’ the vale;
210. Song-Stay my Charmer
© Robert Burns
STAY my charmer, can you leave me?
Cruel, cruel to deceive me;
Well you know how much you grieve me;
Cruel charmer, can you go!
Cruel charmer, can you go!
What should I Say
© Sir Thomas Wyatt
What should I say,Since faith is dead,And truth awayFrom you is fled?Should I be ledWith doubleness?Nay, nay, mistress!
The Long Love that in my Thought doth Harbour
© Sir Thomas Wyatt
The longë love that in my thought doth harbourAnd in mine hert doth keep his residence,Into my face presseth with bold pretenceAnd therein campeth, spreading his banner
Forget not Yet the Tried Intent
© Sir Thomas Wyatt
Forget not yet the tried intentOf such a truth as I have meant;My great travail so gladly spent, Forget not yet.
The Lark and Her Young Ones with the Owner of a Field
© Wright Elizur
"Depend upon yourself alone," Has to a common proverb grown
Yarrow Visited. September, 1814
© William Wordsworth
And is this--Yarrow?--This the streamOf which my fancy cherished,So faithfully, a waking dream?An image that hath perished!O that some Minstrel's harp were near,To utter notes of gladness,And chase this silence from the air,That fills my heart with sadness!
Yet why?--a silvery current flowsWith uncontrolled meanderings;Nor have these eyes by greener hillsBeen soothed, in all my wanderings
131. Song-Willie Chalmers
© Robert Burns
WI’ braw new branks in mickle pride,
And eke a braw new brechan,
Sonnets from The River Duddon: After-Thought
© William Wordsworth
I thought of Thee, my partner and my guide,As being past away
Song at the Feast of Brougham Castle upon the Restoration of Lord Clifford, the Shepherd, to the Estates and Honours of his Ancestors
© William Wordsworth
High in the breathless Hall the Minstrel sate,And Emont's murmur mingled with the Song.--The words of ancient time I thus translate,A festal strain that hath been silent long:--
The Prelude: Book 2: School-time (Continued)
© William Wordsworth
Thus far, O Friend! have we, though leaving muchUnvisited, endeavour'd to retraceMy life through its first years, and measured backThe way I travell'd when I first beganTo love the woods and fields; the passion yetWas in its birth, sustain'd, as might befal,By nourishment that came unsought, for still,From week to week, from month to month, we liv'dA round of tumult: duly were our gamesProlong'd in summer till the day-light fail'd;No chair remain'd before the doors, the benchAnd threshold steps were empty; fast asleepThe Labourer, and the old Man who had sate,A later lingerer, yet the revelryContinued, and the loud uproar: at last,When all the ground was dark, and the huge cloudsWere edged with twinkling stars, to bed we went,With weary joints, and with a beating mind
108. Song-Will ye go to the Indies, my Mary?
© Robert Burns
WILL ye go to the Indies, my Mary,
And leave auld Scotia’s shore?
Will ye go to the Indies, my Mary,
Across th’ Atlantic roar?
Ode: Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood
© William Wordsworth
The child is father of the man;And I could wish my days to be Bound each to each by natural piety. (Wordsworth, "My Heart Leaps Up")
Lines Composed a Few Miles above Tintern Abbey, On Revisiting the Banks of the Wye during a Tour. July 13, 1798
© William Wordsworth
Five years have past; five summers, with the lengthOf five long winters! and again I hearThese waters, rolling from their mountain-springsWith a soft inland murmur
It is not to be Thought of
© William Wordsworth
It is not to be thought of that the FloodOf British freedom, which, to the open seaOf the world's praise, from dark antiquityHath flowed, "with pomp of waters, unwithstood,"Roused though it be full often to a moodWhich spurns the check of salutary bands,That this most famous Stream in bogs and sandsShould perish; and to evil and to goodBe lost for ever
