Strength poems
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The Ring And The Book - Chapter X - The Pope
© Robert Browning
Then Stephen, Pope and seventh of the name,
Cried out, in synod as he sat in state,
While choler quivered on his brow and beard,
Come into court, Formosus, thou lost wretch,
That claimedst to be late the Pope as I!
Invocation
© Edith Nesbit
The Spirit of Darkness, the Prince of the Power of the Air,
The terror that walketh by night, and the horror by day,
The legions of Evil, alert and awake and aware,
Press round him each hour; and I pray here alone, far away.
The Aeneid of Virgil: Book 11
© Publius Vergilius Maro
SCARCE had the rosy Morning raisd her head
Above the waves, and left her watry bed;
Holy Baptism
© John Keble
Where is it mothers learn their love? -
In every Church a fountain springs
O'er which th' Eternal Dove
Hovers out softest wings.
The Three Trees
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
The oak is a brave tree that groweth in the wood
The oak, and the pine, and the aspen tree
If Only I Were Santa Claus
© Edgar Albert Guest
If only I were Santa Claus and you were still a boy,
I'd find the chimney to your heart and fill it full of joy ;
The Ploughman
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
CLEAR the brown path, to meet his coulter's gleam!
Lo! on he comes, behind his smoking team,
With toil's bright dew-drops on his sunburnt brow,
The lord of earth, the hero of the plough!
Body And Soul: A Metaphysical Argument
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Man openeth the case
Body, from the arrogance
Of the Soul thou seekest shield,
Makest prayer the old mis--chance
Admetus: To my friend, Ralph Waldo Emerson
© Emma Lazarus
He who could beard the lion in his lair,
To bind him for a girl, and tame the boar,
Sordello: Book the Sixth
© Robert Browning
The thought of Eglamor's least like a thought,
And yet a false one, was, "Man shrinks to nought
Tales Of A Wayside Inn : Part 1. The Musician's Tale; The Saga of King Olaf I. -- The Challenge Of T
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
I am the God Thor,
I am the War God,
I am the Thunderer!
Here in my Northland,
My fastness and fortress,
Reign I forever!
Athenasia
© Oscar Wilde
To that gaunt House of Art which lacks for naught
Of all the great things men have saved from Time,
The withered body of a girl was brought
Dead ere the world's glad youth had touched its prime,
And seen by lonely Arabs lying hid
In the dim wound of some black pyramid.
