Faith poems
/ page 219 of 262 /
The Dead Democrat
© George Essex Evans
Her yoke is heavy to be borne,
Her bitter paths are choked with thorn,
But glorious shines, through mist and haze,
The splendour of her coming days.
Our loftiest tribute shall be then,
He served his fellow-men.
Progress
© Matthew Arnold
The Master stood upon the mount, and taught.
He saw a fire in his disciples eyes;
The old law, they said, is wholly come to naught!
Behold the new world rise!
Stanzas from the Grande Chartreuse
© Matthew Arnold
Through Alpine meadows soft-suffused
With rain, where thick the crocus blows,
Past the dark forges long disused,
The mule-track from Saint Laurent goes.
The bridge is cross'd, and slow we ride,
Through forest, up the mountain-side.
Sohrab and Rustum
© Matthew Arnold
"Ferood, and ye, Persians and Tartars, hear!
Let there be truce between the hosts to-day.
But choose a champion from the Persian lords
To fight our champion Sohrab, man to man."
The Forsaken Merman
© Matthew Arnold
Come, dear children, let us away;
Down and away below!
Now my brothers call from the bay,
Now the great winds shoreward blow,
Isolation: To Marguerite
© Matthew Arnold
We were apart; yet, day by day,
I bade my heart more constant be.
I bade it keep the world away,
And grow a home for only thee;
Nor fear'd but thy love likewise grew,
Like mine, each day, more tried, more true.
Dedication
© Rudyard Kipling
The Cities are full of pride,
Challenging each to each -
This from her mountain-side,
That from her burthened beach.
To emma abbott
© Eugene Field
There--let thy hands be folded
Awhile in sleep's repose;
The patient hands that wearied not,
But earnestly and nobly wrought
Invocation
© Ambrose Bierce
Goddess of Liberty! O thou
Whose tearless eyes behold the chain,
And look unmoved upon the slain,
Eternal peace upon thy brow,-
The peter-bird
© Eugene Field
Out of the woods by the creek cometh a calling for Peter,
And from the orchard a voice echoes and echoes it over;
Down in the pasture the sheep hear that strange crying for Peter,
Over the meadows that call is aye and forever repeated.
So let me tell you the tale, when, where, and how it all happened,
And, when the story is told, let us pay heed to the lesson.
The Bride Of The Greek Isle
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
Fear! I'm a Greek, and how should I fear death?
A slave, and wherefore should I dread my freedom?
I will not live degraded ~ Sardanapalus
The dreams
© Eugene Field
Two dreams came down to earth one night
From the realm of mist and dew;
One was a dream of the old, old days,
And one was a dream of the new.
The Mice. A Tale - To Mr. Adrian Drift
© Matthew Prior
But why all this? Is this your fable?
Believe me, Matt, it seems a bauble;
If you will let me know th' intent on't,
Go to your mice, and make an end on't.
Vull a Man
© William Barnes
No, Im a man, Im vull a man,
You beat my manhood, if you can.
Youll be a man if you can teake
All steates that household life do meake.
Picnic-time
© Eugene Field
It's June ag'in, an' in my soul I feel the fillin' joy
That's sure to come this time o' year to every little boy;
For, every June, the Sunday-schools at picnics may be seen,
Where "fields beyont the swellin' floods stand dressed in livin' green";
Abraham Lincoln
© James Russell Lowell
Such was he, our Martyr-Chief,
Whom late the Nation he had led,
On The Reverend Mr. Love, In The Cathedral At Bristol
© Hannah More
O let him in some pause of anguish say,
What zeal inflam'd, what faith enlarg'd his breast;
How glad th' unfetter'd spirit wing'd its way
From earth to heav'n, from blessing to be blest!
Little Boy Blue
© Eugene Field
The little toy dog is covered with dust,
But sturdy and stanch he stands;
And the little toy soldier is red with rust,
And his musket molds in his hands.
