Trust poems

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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.

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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

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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!

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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.—

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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.

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Colin Clouts Come Home Againe

© Edmund Spenser

Colin Clouts Come Home Againe

THe shepheards boy (best knowen by that name)

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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.

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The Moated Manse

© Madison Julius Cawein

I.

  And now once more we stood within the walls

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Scene From ‘Tasso’

© Percy Bysshe Shelley

MADDALO, A COURTIER.
MALPIGLIO, A POET.
PIGNA, A MINISTER.
ALBANO, AN USHER.

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Tale VII

© George Crabbe

view,
A useful lass,--you may have more to do."
  Dreadful were these commands; but worse than

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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."

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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.

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The Parting Word

© Oliver Wendell Holmes

I must leave thee, lady sweet

Months shall waste before we meet;

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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.

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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?

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Epilogue: Songs Before Sunrise

© Algernon Charles Swinburne

Between the wave-ridge and the strand

I let you forth in sight of land,

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Life—is what we make of it

© Emily Dickinson

Life—is what we make of it—
Death—we do not know—
Christ's acquaintance with Him
Justify Him—though—

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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 pitch’d their pavilion gay.

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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.

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Can vei la lauzeta

© Bernard de Ventadorn

Can vei la lauzeta mover

de joi sas alas contra.l rai,