Faith poems
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The Confessor, a Sanctified Tale
© Mary Darby Robinson
Tho' fraud is ever sure to find
Its scorpion in the guilty mind:
Yet, PIOUS FRAUD, the DEVIL'S treasure,
Is always paid, in TENFOLD MEASURE.
Sonnet XIX: Farewell, Ye Coral Caves
© Mary Darby Robinson
Farewell, ye coral caves, ye pearly sands,
Ye waving woods that crown yon lofty steep;
Farewell, ye Nereides of the glitt'ring deep,
Ye mountain tribes, ye fawns, ye sylvan bands:
Ode to Valour
© Mary Darby Robinson
Inscribed to Colonel Banastre Tarleton]
TRANSCENDENT VALOUR! godlike Pow'r!
Lord of the dauntless breast, and stedfast mien!
Who, rob'd in majesty sublime,
"Brave Schill! By Death Delivered"
© William Wordsworth
BRAVE Schill! by death delivered, take thy flight
From Prussia's timid region. Go, and rest
Lewin and Gynneth
© Mary Darby Robinson
"WHEN will my troubled soul have rest?"
The beauteous LEWIN cried;
As thro' the murky shade of night
With frantic step she hied.
At The Grave Of Charles Lamb, In Edmonton
© William Watson
Not here, O teeming City, was it meet
Thy lover, thy most faithful, should repose,
The Pilgrim
© Letitia Elizabeth Landon
Vain folly of another age,
This wandering over earth,
To find the peace by some dark sin
Banish'd our household hearth.
Elegy to the Memory of David Garrick, Esq.
© Mary Darby Robinson
DEAR SHADE OF HIM, who grac'd the mimick scene,
And charm'd attention with resistless pow'r;
Whose wond'rous art, whose fascinating mien,
Gave glowing rapture to the short-liv'd hour!
Elegy on the Death of Lady Middleton
© Mary Darby Robinson
THE knell of death, that on the twilight gale,
Swells its deep murmur to the pensive ear;
In awful sounds repeats a mournful tale,
And claims the tribute of a tender tear.
Edmund's Wedding
© Mary Darby Robinson
By the side of the brook, where the willow is waving
Why sits the wan Youth, in his wedding-suit gay!
Now sighing so deeply, now frantickly raving
Beneath the pale light of the moon's sickly ray.
All Alone
© Mary Darby Robinson
Ah! wherefore by the Church-yard side,
Poor little LORN ONE, dost thou stray?
Thy wavy locks but thinly hide
The tears that dim thy blue-eye's ray;
And wherefore dost thou sigh, and moan,
And weep, that thou art left alone?
The Ring And The Book - Chapter VIII - Dominus Hyacinthus de Archangelis
© Robert Browning
(Virgil, now, should not be too difficult
To Cinoncino,say the early books . . .
Pen, truce to further gambols! Poscimur!)
A Wreath To The Fish
© Nancy Willard
Who is this fish, still wearing its wealth,
flat on my drainboard, dead asleep,
its suit of mail proof only against the stream?
What is it to live in a stream,
The Lost Friend
© Amy Levy
The people take the thing of course,
They marvel not to see
This strange, unnatural divorce
Betwixt delight and me.
Alnwick Castle
© Fitz-Greene Halleck
From royal Berwick's beach of sand,
From Wooller, Morpeth, Hexham, and
Newcastle-upon-Tyne.
The Borough. Letter XXIII: Prisons
© George Crabbe
'TIS well--that Man to all the varying states
Of good and ill his mind accommodates;
