Faith poems
/ page 47 of 262 /The Graveyard By The Sea
© Paul Valéry
Sure treasure, simple shrine to intelligence,
Palpable calm, visible reticence,
Proud-lidded water, Eye wherein there wells
Under a film of fire such depth of sleep --
O silence! . . . Mansion in my soul, you slope
Of gold, roof of a myriad golden tiles.
Cathair Fhargus
© Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
(FERGUS'S SEAT.)
A mountain in the Island of Arran, the summit of which resembles a gigantic
human profile.
Visitation And Communion Of The Sick
© John Keble
O Youth and Joy, your airy tread
Too lightly springs by Sorrow's bed,
To The Heroic Soul
© Duncan Campbell Scott
And when Grief comes thou shalt have suffered more
Than all the deepest woes of all the world;
Joy, dancing in, shall find thee nourished with mirth;
Wisdom shall find her Master at thy door;
And Love shall find thee crowned with love empearled;
And death shall touch thee not but a new birth.
Hermann And Dorothea - II. Terpsichore
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Then the son thoughtfully answer'd:--"I know not why, but the fact is
My annoyance has graven itself in my mind, and hereafter
I could not bear at the piano to see her, or list to her singing."
'The Aeneid of Virgil: Book 3
© Publius Vergilius Maro
WHEN Heavn had overturnd the Trojan state
And Priams throne, by too severe a fate;
Palinode - Autumn
© James Russell Lowell
Still thirteen years: 'tis autumn now
On field and hill, in heart and brain;
The naked trees at evening sough;
The leaf to the forsaken bough
Sighs not,--'_Auf wiedersehen!_'
Speranza
© Jean Ingelow
England puts on her purple, and pale, pale
With too much light, the primrose doth but wait
To meet the hyacinth; then bower and dale
Shall lose her and each fairy woodland mate.
April forgets them, for their utmost sum
Of gift was silent, and the birds are come.
Amy Wentworth
© John Greenleaf Whittier
Her fingers shame the ivory keys
They dance so light along;
The bloom upon her parted lips
Is sweeter than the song.
The Harpers Story
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
My pretty ladies, mid this Christmas cheer,
Loth though I am to wake a single tear
The Old Village Doctor
© Henry Clay Work
Count the mossy marbles in the graveyard!
Our old doctor and his patients, there they lie.
All regradless of the weather,
They are waiting there together,
For that long-sought "better by-and-by."
The Lord of the Isles: Canto II.
© Sir Walter Scott
I.
Fill the bright goblet, spread the festive board!
Genesis BK XX
© Caedmon
(ll. 1248-1254) Then the sons of God began to take them wives
from the tribe of Cain, a cursed folk, and the sons of men chose
them wives from among that people, the fair and winsome daughters
of that sinful race, against the will of God. Then the Lord of
heaven lifted up His voice in wrath against mankind, and said:
The Dead Come Home: Excerpt
© Edward Harrington
"We answered to the call to arms, unquestioning and blind,
We trusted to the promises of those we left behind.
By Faith With Thanksgiving
© Edith Nesbit
LOVE is no bird that nests and flies,
No rose that buds and blooms and dies,
Abu Midjan
© George MacDonald
"If I sit in the dust
For lauding good wine,
Ha, ha! it is just:
So sits the vine!"
The Toadstool
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
THERE 's a thing that grows by the fainting flower,
And springs in the shade of the lady's bower;
Denial
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
WE look with scorn on Peter's thrice-told lie;
Boldly we say, "Good brother! you nor I,
So near the sacred Lord, the Christ, indeed,
Had dared His name and marvellous grace deny."
An Interview With Miles Standish
© James Russell Lowell
I sat one evening in my room,
In that sweet hour of twilight