Faith poems

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England, my mother,
Lift to my western sweetheart
One full cup of English mead, breathing of the may!
Pledge the may-flower in her face that you and ah, none other,
Sent her from the mother-land
Across the dashing spray.

The RagPicker

© Robert Laurence Binyon

In the April sun
Shuffling, shapeless, bent,
Cobweb--eyed, with stick
Searching, one by one,
Gutter--heaps, intent
Wretched rags to pick.

Solomon

© Thomas Parnell

But long expectance of a bliss delay'd
Breeds anxious doubt, and tempts the sacred maid;
Then mists arising strait repel the light,
The colour'd garden lies disguis'd with night,
A pale-horn'd crescent leads a glimm'ring throng,
And groans of absence jarr within the song.

The Meeting Of The Centuries

© Wilcox Ella Wheeler

A CURIOUS vision, on mine eyes unfurled
In the deep night. I saw, or seemed to see,
Two Centuries meet, and sit down vis-a-vis,
Across the great round table of the world.

The Old, Old Story and the New Order

© Henry Lawson

They proved we could not think nor see,

They proved we could not write,

"By Eve'ry Sweet Tradition of True Hearts"

© Thomas Hood

By ev'ry sweet tradition of true hearts,
Graven by Time, in love with his own lore;
By all old martyrdoms and antique smarts,
Wherein Love died to be alive the more;

Shovel And Tongs

© Wilcox Ella Wheeler

The Poker proposed to the shovel
That they should be man and wife,
"I think," said he, "that we could agree
As we journey along through life."

The Scout Toward Aldie

© Herman Melville

Nine Blue-coats went a-nutting
Slyly in Tennessee-
Not for chestnuts - better than that-
Hugh, you bumble-bee!
Nutting, nutting -
All through the year there's nutting!

Olney Hymn 3: Jehovah-Rophi: I Am the Lord That Healeth Thee

© William Cowper

Heal us, Emmanuel! here we are,
Waiting to feel Thy touch:
Deep-wounded souls to Thee repair
And, Saviour, we are such.

Epitaph On Mrs. M. Higgins, Of Weston

© William Cowper

Laurels may flourish round the conqueror's tomb,
But happiest they who win the world to come:
Believers have a silent field to fight,
And their exploits are veiled from human sight.

Bob

© Henry Kendall

SINGER of songs of the hills

Dreamer, by waters unstirred,

Lucasta's Fanne, With A Looking- Glasse In It

© Richard Lovelace

I.
Eastrich! thou featherd foole, and easie prey,
That larger sailes to thy broad vessell needst;
Snakes through thy guttur-neck hisse all the day,
Then on thy iron messe at supper feedst.

The Garrison of Cape Ann

© John Greenleaf Whittier

From the hills of home forth looking, far beneath the tent-like span
Of the sky, I see the white gleam of the headland of Cape Ann.
Well I know its coves and beaches to the ebb-tide glimmering down,
And the white-walled hamlet children of its ancient fishing town.

Woman Of Canaan

© John Newton

Prayer an answer will obtain,
Though the Lord awhile delay;
None shall seek his face in vain,
None be empty sent away.

The Bangle Sellers

Bangle sellers are we who bear
Our shining loads to the temple fair...
Who will buy these delicate, bright
Rainbow-tinted circles of light?
Lustrous tokens of radiant lives,
For happy daughters and happy wives.

Alfred And Janet

At thirteen she was all that Heaven could send,
My nurse, my faithful clerk, my lively friend;
Last at my pillow when I sunk to sleep,
First on my threshold soon as day could peep:
I heard her happy to her heart's desire,
With clanking pattens, and a roaring fire.

Weak Is The Will Of Man, His Judgement Blind

'WEAK is the will of Man, his judgment blind;
'Remembrance persecutes, and Hope betrays;
'Heavy is woe;--and joy, for human-kind,
'A mournful thing, so transient is the blaze!'