Trust poems
/ page 102 of 157 /To My Friend OnThe Death Of His Sister
© John Greenleaf Whittier
Thine is a grief, the depth of which another
May never know;
Yet, o'er the waters, O my stricken brother!
To thee I go.
The Cōforte of Louers
© Stephen Hawes
The prohemye.
The gentyll poetes/vnder cloudy fygures
Do touche a trouth/and clokeit subtylly
Harde is to cōstrue poetycall scryptures
Sonnet IX.
© Charlotte Turner Smith
BLEST is yon shepherd, on the turf reclined,
Who on the varied clouds which float above
Lies idly gazing--while his vacant mind
Pours out some tale antique of rural love!
The Progress Of Refinement. Part I.
© Henry James Pye
Rous'd by those honors cull'd by Glory's hand
To dress the Victor on the Olympic sand,
With active toil each ardent stripling tries
To bind his forehead with the immortal prize;
Hence strength and beauty deck the Grecian race,
And manly labor gives them manly grace.
The Lordship Of Corfu
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
They vowed a vow methinks ne'er vowed before,
The while their galley, strangely laden, bore
Down the south wind, which freshly blew from shore.
Colin Clouts Come Home Againe
© Edmund Spenser
Colin Clouts Come Home Againe
THe shepheards boy (best knowen by that name)
The North Sea -- First Cycle
© Heinrich Heine
Once through heaven went shining,
Wedded and one,
Luna the Goddess, and Sol the God,
And the stars in multitudes thronged around them,
Their little, innocent children.
Scene From Tasso
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
MADDALO, A COURTIER.
MALPIGLIO, A POET.
PIGNA, A MINISTER.
ALBANO, AN USHER.
Tale VII
© George Crabbe
view,
A useful lass,--you may have more to do."
Dreadful were these commands; but worse than
Night and Morning
© Anonymous
Was it a lie that they told me,
Was it a pitiless hoax?
A sop for my soul and its longing
Only to cozen and coax?
And a voice came down through the night and rain:
"They lied; thou has trusted in vain."
Song Of The Negro Boatman
© John Greenleaf Whittier
Oh, praise an' tanks! De Lord he come
To set de people free;
An' massa tink it day ob doom,
An' we ob jubilee.
The Parting Word
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
I must leave thee, lady sweet
Months shall waste before we meet;
A Song Of Harvest
© John Greenleaf Whittier
This day, two hundred years ago,
The wild grape by the river's side,
And tasteless groundnut trailing low,
The table of the woods supplied.
To The Memory Of Heber
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
If it be sad to speak of treasures gone,
Of sainted genius call'd too soon away,
Of light, from this world taken, while it shone
Yet kindling onward to the perfect day;
How shall our grief, if mournful these things be,
Flow forth, oh, Thou of many gifts! for thee?
Epilogue: Songs Before Sunrise
© Algernon Charles Swinburne
Between the wave-ridge and the strand
I let you forth in sight of land,
Lifeis what we make of it
© Emily Dickinson
Lifeis what we make of it
Deathwe do not know
Christ's acquaintance with Him
Justify Himthough
The Tournament (From The Old Danish)
© George Borrow
Six score there were, six score and ten,
From Hald that rode that day;
And when they came to Brattingsborg
They pitchd their pavilion gay.
The Countess
© John Greenleaf Whittier
Over the wooded northern ridge,
Between its houses brown,
To the dark tunnel of the bridge
The street comes straggling down.