Life poems
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Healfast, Healfast, Ye Hero Wounds
© Louisa May Alcott
'"Healfast, healfast, ye hero wounds;
O knight, be quickly strong!
Beloved strife
For fame and life,
Oh, tarry not too long!"'
Hymn of Sovereign Grace
© Augustus Montague Toplady
Formed for thyself, and turned to thee,
Thy praises, Lord , I show;
No more, with sacrilegious pride,
I rob thee of thy due.
For Where Your Treasure Is, There Will Your Heart Be Also
© George MacDonald
The miser lay on his lonely bed;
Life's candle was burning dim.
His heart in an iron chest was hid
Under heaps of gold and an iron lid;
And whether it were alive or dead
It never troubled him.
Growing Old
© Anonymous
Is it parting with the roundness
Of the smoothly moulded cheek?
Is it losing from the dimples
Half the flashing joy they speak?
Witchcraft: New Style
© Lascelles Abercrombie
The first voice, in that silent crowd, was hers,
Her light snickering laugh, as she stood there
Pausing, scanning the sawdust at her feet.
Then she switcht round and faced the positive man
Whose strong 'She cannot do it!' all still felt
Huskily shouting in their guilty ears.
By the Statue of King Charles at Charing Cross
© Lionel Pigot Johnson
Sombre and rich, the skies;
Great glooms, and starry plains.
Gently the night wind sighs;
Else a vast silence reigns.
Balaam's Wish
© John Newton
How blest the righteous are
When they resign their breath!
No wonder Balaam wished to share
In such a happy death.
Compensation
© Edgar Albert Guest
I'd like to think when life is done
That I had filled a needed post.
Pole-Vellum, Cornwall
© William Lisle Bowles
A PICTURESQUE COTTAGE AND GROUNDS BELONGING TO J. LEMON, ESQ.
Stranger! mark this lovely scene,
The High Tide on the Coast of Lincolnshire
© Jean Ingelow
(1571.)
The old mayor climbed the belfry tower,
The Song of the Mad Prince
© Walter de la Mare
WHO said, " Peacock Pie " ?
The old King to the sparrow :
Who said, " Crops are ripe " ?
Rust to the harrow :
Who said, " Where sleeps she now ?
Times Changes In A Household
© Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
They were as fair and bright a band as ever filled with pride
Parental hearts whose task it was children beloved to guide;
And every care that love upon its idols bright may shower
Was lavished with impartial hand upon each fair young flower.
The Lyre Of Anacreon
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
THE minstrel of the classic lay
Of love and wine who sings
Still found the fingers run astray
That touched the rebel strings.
Isaura
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
Dost thou not tire, Isaura, of this play?
"What play?" Why, this old play of winning hearts!
Nay, now, lift not thine eyes in that feigned way:
'Tis all in vainI know thee and thine arts.
Sheep-Killer
© Ernest G Moll
But since a farmer needs must have his sleep,
That night I put a bullet in his head,
Gave the world back to God, and went to bed.
To My Native Land
© Jens Baggesen
Thou spot of earth, where from the breast of woe
My eye first rose, and in the purple glow
Of morning, and the dewy smile of love,
Marked the first gloamings of the Power above:
Shakespeare?
© Robert Crawford
And what think ye of Shakespeare? 'Twas not he
Of Stratford is the lord of England's lyre;
Ay, not the rustic lad, whoe'er it be,
Momentous in his doing and desire.
Tale XXI
© George Crabbe
rise;
Not there the wise alone their entrance find,
Imparting useful light to mortals blind;
But, blind themselves, these erring guides hold out
Alluring lights to lead us far about;
Screen'd by such means, here Scandal whets her
