Faith poems
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The Medal
© John Dryden
Thus inborn broils the factions would engage,
Or wars of exiled heirs, or foreign rage,
Till halting vengeance overtook our age,
And our wild labours, wearied into rest,
Reclined us on a rightful monarch's breast.
Religio Laici
© John Dryden
Dar'st thou, poor worm, offend Infinity?
And must the terms of peace be given by thee?
Then thou art justice in the last appeal;
Thy easy God instructs thee to rebel:
And, like a king remote, and weak, must take
What satisfaction thou art pleas'd to make.
Absalom And Achitophel
© John Dryden
Him staggering so when Hell's dire agent found,
While fainting virtue scarce maintain'd her ground,
He pours fresh forces in, and thus replies:
Hidden Flame
© John Dryden
Feed a flame within, which so torments me
That it both pains my heart, and yet contains me:
'Tis such a pleasing smart, and I so love it,
That I had rather die than once remove it.
Foes
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
Thank Fate for foes! I hold mine dear
As valued friends. He cannot know
The zest of life who runneth here
His earthly race without a foe.
Recompense
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
Straight through my heart this fact to-day,
By Truths own hand is driven:
God never takes one thing away,
But something else is given.
Philosophy
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
At morn the wise man walked abroad,
Proud with the learning of great fools.
He laughed and said, There is no God
Tis force creates, tis reason rules.
Progress
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
Let there be many windows to your soul,
That all the glory of the universe
May beautify it. Not the narrow pane
Of one poor creed can catch the radiant rays
A trusting little leaf of green,
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
A little leaf just in the forest's edge,
All summer long, had listened to the wooing
Of amorous brids that flew across the hedge,
Singing their blithe sweet songs for her undoing.
So many were the flattering things they told her,
The parent tree seemed quite too small to hold her.
Custer
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
BOOK FIRST.I.ALL valor died not on the plains of Troy.
Awake, my Muse, awake! be thine the joy
To sing of deeds as dauntless and as brave
As e'er lent luster to a warrior's grave.
Love Thyself Last
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
Love thyself last. Look near, behold thy duty
To those who walk beside thee down lifes road;
Make glad their days by little acts of beauty,
And help them bear the burden of earths load.
Begin The Day
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
Begin each morning with a talk to God,
And ask for your divine inheritance
Of usefulness, contentment, and success.
Resign all fear, all doubt, and all despair.
In Faith
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
When the soft sweet wind o' the south went by,
I dwelt in the light of a dark brown eye;
And out where the robin sang his song,
We lived and loved, while the days were long.
Thanksgiving
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
There's not a day in all the year
But holds some hidden pleasure,
And looking back, joys oft appear
To brim the past's wide measure.
Angel Or Demon
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
You call me an angel of love and of light,
A being of goodness and heavenly fire,
Sent out from Gods kingdom to guide you aright,
In paths where your spirits may mount and aspire.
You say that I glow like a star on its course,
Like a ray from the alter, a spark from the source.
Love Much
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
Love much. Earth has enough of bitter in it.
Cast sweets into its cup wheneer you can.
No heart so hard, but love at last may win it.
Love is the great primæval cause of man.
All hate is foreign to the first great plan.
All Roads That Lead To God Are Good
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
All roads that lead to God are good.
What matters it, your faith, or mine?
Both centre at the goal divine
Of loves eternal Brotherhood.
The Princess Betrothed To The King Of Garba
© Jean de La Fontaine
WHAT various ways in which a thing is told
Some truth abuse, while others fiction hold;
In stories we invention may admit;
But diff'rent 'tis with what historick writ;
Posterity demands that truth should then
Inspire relation, and direct the pen.
The Picture
© Jean de La Fontaine
CATULLUS tells us, ev'ry matron sage
Will peep most willingly (whate'er her age),
At that gigantick gift, which Juno made,
To Venus' fruit, in gardens oft displayed.
If any belle recede, and shun the sight,
Dissimulation she supposes right.
The Pack-Saddle
© Jean de La Fontaine
A FAMOUS painter, jealous of his wife;
Whose charms he valued more than fame or life,
When going on a journey used his art,
To paint an ASS upon a certain part,
(Umbilical, 'tis said) and like a seal:
Impressive token, nothing thence to steal.
