Poems begining by J

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Joseph

© Isabel Ecclestone Mackay

The mother smiled
As one who knew; and it is true they knelt
As to a King. The thing disturbs me much!
I'll ask--but no . . . . .

John Anderson

© Jeppe Aakjaer

John Anderson, min Fryd, John,

da først vi to blev kjendt,

Joy And Peace In Believing

© John Newton

Sometimes a light surprises

The Christian while he sings;

Jesus, We Look To Thee

© Charles Wesley

Jesus, we look to Thee,
Thy promised presence claim;
Thou in the midst of us shall be,
Assembled in Thy Name.

John McKeen

© James Whitcomb Riley

John McKeen, in his rusty dress,
His loosened collar, and swarthy throat,
His face unshaven, and none the less,
His hearty laugh and his wholesomeness,
And the wealth of a workman's vote!

I cannot skill of these thy ways:
Lord thou didst make me, yet you woundest me:
Lord, thou dost wound me, yet thou dost relieve me:
Lord, thou relievest, yet I die by thee:
Lord, thou dost kill me, yet thou dost reprieve me.

Jupiter And The Farmer

© Anne Kingsmill Finch

O Jupiter! with Famine pinch'd he cries,
No more will I direct th' unerring Skies;
No more my Substance on a Project lay,
No more a sullen Doubt I will betray,
Let me but live to Reap, do Thou appoint the way

June

© Edgar Albert Guest

June is here, the month of roses, month of brides and month of bees,
Weaving garlands for our lassies, whispering love songs in the trees,
Painting scenes of gorgeous splendor, canvases no man could brush,
Changing scenes from early morning till the sunset's crimson flush.

Joys of Peace

© Theocritus

And, oh! that they might till rich fields,
And that unnumbered sheep and fat
Might bleat cheerily through the plains,
And that oxen coming in herds to the stalls

Joy that's half too keen, and true

© Augusta Davies Webster

Joy that's half too keen, and true,
Makes us tears.
Oh! the sweetness of the tears!
If such joy at hand appears,

Johnson, alias Crow

© Henry Lawson

Where the seasons are divided and the bush begins to change,

and the links are rather broken in the Great Dividing Range;

July

© John Payne

THE meadows slumber in the golden shine;

Full-mirrored in the river's glass serene,

Jerusalem Delivered - Book 01 - part 01

© Torquato Tasso

THE ARGUMENT.

God sends his angel to Tortosa down,

Jones's Private Argyment

That air same Jones, which lived in Jones,
He had this pint about him:
He'd swear with a hundred sighs and groans,
That farmers MUST stop gittin' loans,
And git along without 'em:

Jewelled Offering

Jewelled offering bring I none,
Jade or pearl or precious stone,
Urn of crystal, bale of spice,
Unguent culled in Paradise,

Je ne vois pas pourquoi je ferais autre chose

Je ne vois pas pourquoi je ferais autre chose
Que de rêver sous l'arbre où le ramier se pose ;
Les chars passent, j'entends grincer les durs essieux ;