Faith poems

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Upon A Snail

© John Bunyan

She goes but softly, but she goeth sure,

She stumbles not, as stronger creatures do.

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A Musing On A Victory

© Sydney Thompson Dobell

Down by the Sutlej shore,
Where sound the trumpet and the wild tum-tum,
At winter's eve did come
A gaunt old northern lion, at whose roar
The myriad howlers of thy wilds are dumb,
Blood-stained Ferozepore!

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To W.L. Garrison

© James Russell Lowell

In a small chamber, friendless and unseen,
  Toiled o'er his types one poor, unlearned young man;
The place was dark, unfurnitured, and mean;
  Yet there the freedom of a race began.

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Horace: Book 1, Ode 22

© Samuel Johnson

The man, my friend, whose conscious heart
With virtue's sacred ardour glows,
Nor taints with death the envenom'd dart,
Nor needs the guard of Moorish bows:

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The Stolen God--Lazarus To Dives

© Edith Nesbit

We do not clamour for vengeance,

We do not whine for fear;

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Sonnet XXX. Life And Death. 2.

© Christopher Pearse Cranch

OR endless sleep 't will be, — and that is rest,
Freedom forever from life's weary cares —
Or else a life beyond the climbing stairs
And dizzy pinnacles of thought expressed

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The Happy Shepherd

© Phineas Fletcher

Thrice, oh, thrice happy, shepherd's life and state!

When courts are happiness' unhappy pawns!

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Aurora Leigh: Book Seventh

© Elizabeth Barrett Browning


I broke on Marian there. "Yet she herself,
A wife, I think, had scandals of her own,-
A lover not her husband."

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The Origin Of Flattery

© Charlotte Turner Smith

WHEN Jove, in anger to the sons of the earth,
Bid artful Vulcan give Pandora birth,
And sent the fatal gift which spread below
O'er all the wretched race contagious woe,

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A Praise Of His Love

© Henry Howard

  Give place, ye lovers, here before
  That spent your boasts and brags in vain;
  My lady's beauty passeth more
  The best of yours, I dare well sayn,
  Than doth the sun the candle-light,
  Or brightest day the darkest night.

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The Pleasures of Memory - Part II.

© Samuel Rogers

Sweet Memory, wafted by thy gentle gale,
Oft up the stream of Time I turn my sail,
To view the fairy-haunts of long-lost hours.
Blest with far greener shades, far fresher flowers.

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Tannhauser

© Emma Lazarus

Far into Wartburg, through all Italy,
In every town the Pope sent messengers,
Riding in furious haste; among them, one
Who bore a branch of dry wood burst in bloom;
The pastoral rod had borne green shoots of spring,
And leaf and blossom. God is merciful.

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Turner's Old Temeraire

© James Russell Lowell

Thou wast the fairest of all man-made things;
The breath of heaven bore up thy cloudy wings,
And, patient in their triple rank,
The thunders crouched about thy flank,
Their black lips silent with the doom of kings.

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The Ghost - Book III

© Charles Churchill

It was the hour, when housewife Morn

With pearl and linen hangs each thorn;

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The Will

© John Donne

Before I sigh my last gasp, let me breathe,

 Great Love, some legacies ; I here bequeath

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The Harder Part

© Edgar Albert Guest

It's mighty hard for Mother—I am busy through the day

And the tasks of every morning keep the gloomy thoughts away,

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The Forest Sanctuary - Part II.

© Felicia Dorothea Hemans

  Ave, sanctissima!
'Tis night-fall on the sea;
  Ora pro nobis!
Our souls rise to thee!

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On The Conflagration Of The Po

© Walter Savage Landor

Why is, and whence, the Po in flames? and why

In consternation do its borderers raise

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The Traveller; or, A Prospect of Society

© Oliver Goldsmith

Remote, unfriended, melancholy, slow

Or by the lazy Scheldt or wandering Po,