Faith poems
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Astrophel and Stella: Eight Song
© Sir Philip Sidney
In a groue most rich of shade,Where birds wanton musicke made,May then yong his pide weedes showing,New perfumed with flowers fresh growing, Astrophel with Stella sweete,Did for mutuall comfort meet,Both within themselues oppressed,But each in the other blessed
Astrophel and Stella: 101
© Sir Philip Sidney
Stella is sicke, and in that sicke bed liesSweetnesse, which breathes and pants as oft as she:And grace sick to, such fine conclusions tries,That sicknesse brags it selfe best graced to be
Astrophel and Stella: 88
© Sir Philip Sidney
Out traytour absence, darest thou counsell me,From my deare Captainnesse to run away?Because in braue array heere marcheth she,That to win me, oft shewes a present pay?Is faith so weake? or is such force in thee?When Sun is hid, can starres such beames display?Cannot heau'ns food once felt, keepe stomakes freeFrom base desire on earthly cates to pray
Astrophel and Stella: 86
© Sir Philip Sidney
Alas, whence came this change of lookes? if IHaue chang'd desert, let mine owne conscience beA still felt plague, to selfe condemning me:Let wo gripe on my heart, shame loade mine eye,But if all faith, like spotlesse Ermine lySafe in my soule, which onely doth to thee(As his sole object of felicitie)With wings of Loue in aire of wonder flie
Astrophel and Stella: 72
© Sir Philip Sidney
Desire, though thou my old companion art,And oft so clings to my pure Loue, that IOne from the other scarcely can descrie,While each doth blow the fiere of my hart;Now from thy fellowship I needs must part,Venus is taught with Dians wings to flie:I must no more in thy sweet passions lie;Vertues gold now must head my Cupids dart
Astrophel and Stella: 69
© Sir Philip Sidney
O joy, too high for my low stile to show:O blisse, fit for a nobler state then me
Astrophel and Stella: 47
© Sir Philip Sidney
What haue I thus betrayed my libertie?Can those black beames such burning markes engraue,In my free side or am I borne a slaue,Whose necke becomes such yoke of tyranny?Or want I sense to feele my miserie?Or sprite, disdaine of such disdaine to haue?Who for long faith, tho daily helpe I craue,May get no almes but scorne of beggerie
Astrophel and Stella: 14
© Sir Philip Sidney
Alas haue I not paine ynough my friend,Vpon whose breast a fiercer Grype doth tire,Then did on him who first stale downe the fire,While Loue on me doth all his quiuer spend,But with your Rubarb words ye must contend,To grieue me worse, in saying that DesireDoth plunge my wel-form'd soule euen in the mireOf sinfull thoughts, which do in ruine end?If that be sinne which doth the maners frame,Well staid with truth in word and faith of deed,Readie of wit and fearing nought but shame:If that be sinne which in fixt hearts doth breedA loathing of all loose vnchastitie,Then Loue is sinne, and let me sinfull be
Astrophel and Stella: 10
© Sir Philip Sidney
Reason, in faith thou art well seru'd, that stillWouldst brabling be with sense and loue in me:I rather wisht thee clime the Muses hill,Or reach the fruite of Natures choisest tree,Or seeke heau'ns course, or heau'ns inside to see:Why shouldst thou toyle our thornie soile to till?Leaue sense, and those which senses objects be:Deale thou with powers of thoughts, leaue loue to wil
Shakespeare's Sonnets: Tir'd with all these for restful death I cry
© William Shakespeare
Tir'd with all these, for restful death I cry,As to behold desert a begger born,And needy nothing trimm'd in jollity,And purest faith unhappily forsworn,And gilded honour shamefully misplac't,And maiden virtue rudely strumpeted,And right perfection wrongfully disgrac'd,And strength by limping sway disablèd,And art made tongue-tied by authority,And folly (doctor-like) controlling skill,And simple-truth miscall'd simplicity,And captive-good attending captain-ill
Shakespeare's Sonnets: Thou art as tyrannous, so as thou art
© William Shakespeare
Thou art as tyrannous, so as thou art,As those whose beauties proudly make them cruel,For well thou know'st to my dear doting heartThou art the fairest and most precious jewel
Shakespeare's Sonnets: In loving thee thou know'st I am forsworn
© William Shakespeare
In loving thee thou know'st I am forsworn,But thou art twice forsworn to me love swearing,In act thy bed-vow broke and new faith tornIn vowing new hate after new love bearing
Shakespeare's Sonnets: In faith, I do not love thee with mine eyes
© William Shakespeare
In faith, I do not love thee with mine eyes,For they in thee a thousand errors note,But 'tis my heart that loves what they despise,Who in despite of view is pleas'd to dote
Richard II (excerpts): I have been studying how to compare
© William Shakespeare
I have been studying how to compareThis prison where I live unto the world,And for because the world is populousAnd here is not a creature but myself,I cannot do it - yet I'll hammer it out
Thomas of the Light Heart
© Seaman Owen
Facing the guns, he jokes as well As any Judge upon the Bench;Between the crash of shell and shell His laughter rings along the trench;He seems immensely tickled by aProjectile which he calls a "Black Maria
A Song of Renunciation
© Seaman Owen
In the days of my season of salad, When the down was as dew on my cheek,And for French I was bred on the ballad, For Greek on the writers of Greek,--Then I sang of the rose that is ruddy, Of "pleasure that winces and stings,"Of white women and wine that is bloody, And similar things
Pro Patria
© Seaman Owen
England, in this great fight to which you go Because, where Honour calls you, go you must,Be glad, whatever comes, at least to know You have your quarrel just.
A New Profession
© Seaman Owen
My hopeless boy! when I compare (Claiming a father's right to do so)Your hollow brain, your vacuous air,With all the time, and wealth and care Lavished upon your mental trousseau;
What a Friend We Have in Jesus
© Scriven Joseph Medlicott
What a friend we have in Jesus, All our sins and griefs to bear;What a privilege to carry Everything to God in prayer
