Sympathy poems
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Crow and the Sea
© Ted Hughes
He tried ignoring the sea
But it was bigger than death, just as it was bigger than life.
Three Years She Grew
© William Wordsworth
Three years she grew in sun and shower,Then Nature said, "A lovelier flowerOn earth was never sown;This Child I to myself will take;She shall be mine, and I will makeA Lady of my own.
Song at the Feast of Brougham Castle upon the Restoration of Lord Clifford, the Shepherd, to the Estates and Honours of his Ancestors
© William Wordsworth
High in the breathless Hall the Minstrel sate,And Emont's murmur mingled with the Song.--The words of ancient time I thus translate,A festal strain that hath been silent long:--
The Prelude: Book 2: School-time (Continued)
© William Wordsworth
Thus far, O Friend! have we, though leaving muchUnvisited, endeavour'd to retraceMy life through its first years, and measured backThe way I travell'd when I first beganTo love the woods and fields; the passion yetWas in its birth, sustain'd, as might befal,By nourishment that came unsought, for still,From week to week, from month to month, we liv'dA round of tumult: duly were our gamesProlong'd in summer till the day-light fail'd;No chair remain'd before the doors, the benchAnd threshold steps were empty; fast asleepThe Labourer, and the old Man who had sate,A later lingerer, yet the revelryContinued, and the loud uproar: at last,When all the ground was dark, and the huge cloudsWere edged with twinkling stars, to bed we went,With weary joints, and with a beating mind
The Prelude: Book 1: Childhood and School-time
© William Wordsworth
--Was it for thisThat one, the fairest of all Rivers, lov'dTo blend his murmurs with my Nurse's song,And from his alder shades and rocky falls,And from his fords and shallows, sent a voiceThat flow'd along my dreams? For this, didst Thou,O Derwent! travelling over the green PlainsNear my 'sweet Birthplace', didst thou, beauteous StreamMake ceaseless music through the night and dayWhich with its steady cadence, temperingOur human waywardness, compos'd my thoughtsTo more than infant softness, giving me,Among the fretful dwellings of mankind,A knowledge, a dim earnest, of the calmThat Nature breathes among the hills and groves
Ode: Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood
© William Wordsworth
The child is father of the man;And I could wish my days to be Bound each to each by natural piety. (Wordsworth, "My Heart Leaps Up")
America
© Whitfield James Monroe
America , it is to thee,Thou boasted land of liberty, --It is to thee I raise my song,Thou land of blood, and crime, and wrong
In Memoriam A. H. H. OBIIT MDCCCXXXIII [all 133 poems]
© Alfred Tennyson
[Preface] Whom we, that have not seen thy face, By faith, and faith alone, embrace,Believing where we cannot prove;
Flight into Reality
© Rowley Rosemarie
Dedicated to the memory of my best friend Georgina, (1942-74)and to her husband Alex Burns and their childrenNulles laides amours ne belles prison -Lord Herbert of Cherbury
On our Thirty-ninth Wedding-day, 6th of May, 1810
© Odell Jonathan
Twice nineteen years, dear Nancy, on this dayComplete their circle, since the smiling MayBeheld us at the altar kneel and joinIn holy rites and vows, which made thee mine
We Lean on One Another
© McLachlan Alexander
Oh, come and listen while I sing A song of human nature;For, high or low, we're all akin To ev'ry human creature:We're all the children of the same, The great, the "mighty mother,"And from the cradle to the grave We lean on one another
The Wind Our Enemy
© Marriott Anne
Windflattening its gaunt furious self againstthe naked siding, knifing in the woundsof time, pausing to tear aside the lastold scab of paint.
A Prayer for Grace
© Joussaye Marie
God grant me grace,Whenever I attempt a kindly deed,To help another in the hour of need; To do it cheerfully with smiling faceAnd willing hands, nor ever stop to heedThe sneers of those whose narrow souls and creed For Christ's broad charity can find no place
To a Cat
© Hartley Coleridge
Nelly, methinks, 'twixt thee and meThere is a kind of sympathy;And could we interchange our nature, --If I were cat, thou human creature, --I should, like thee, be no great mouser,And thou, like me, no great composer;For, like thy plaintive mews, my museWith villainous whine doth fate abuse,Because it hath not made me sleekAs golden down on Cupid's cheek;And yet thou canst upon the rug lie,Stretch'd out like snail, or curl'd up snugly,As if thou wert not lean or ugly;And I, who in poetic flightsSometimes complain of sleepless nights,Regardless of the sun in heaven,Am apt to doze till past eleven, --The world would just the same go roundIf I were hang'd and thou wert drown'd;There is one difference, 'tis true, --Thou dost not know it, and I do
