Trust poems
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Song Of The Spinning Wheel
© William Wordsworth
SWIFTLY turn the murmuring wheel!
Night has brought the welcome hour,
When the weary fingers feel
Help, as if from faery power;
Dewy night o'ershades the ground;
Turn the swift wheel round and round!
Irene
© James Russell Lowell
Hers is a spirit deep, and crystal-clear;
Calmly beneath her earnest face it lies,
Sonnet 138: "When my love swears that she is made of truth,..."
© William Shakespeare
When my love swears that she is made of truth,
I do believe her though I know she lies,
To The Reverend Patrick Murdoch, Rector Of Stradishall, In Suffolk
© James Thomson
Thus safely low, my friend, thou canst not fall:
Here reigns a deep tranquillity o'er all;
The Courtship Of Miles Standish
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Thereupon answered the youth: "Indeed I do not condemn you;
Stouter hearts that a woman's have quailed in this terrible winter.
Yours is tender and trusting, and needs a stronger to lean on;
So I have come to you now, with an offer and proffer of marriage
Made by a good man and true, Miles Standish the Captain of Plymouth!"
The Lily and the Bee
© Henry Lawson
Consider the lilies!
But, it occurs to me,
Does any one consider
The lily and the bee?
The Purgatory Of St. Patrick - Act III
© Denis Florence MacCarthy
LUIS. Oh, that name
Do not mention! do not kill me
By repeating what doth thrill me
To the centre of my frame
As with lightning. Yes, I know
That at length Polonia died.
The Truth Suppressed
© Lizelia Augusta Jenkins Moorer
Why do people sit in darkness as regards the Negro race?
Why so ignorant are nations of conditions in the case?
'Tis because the facts are strangled by a prejudice intense,
Truth is murdered in the forum when she cries in his defence.
The Crum Appointment
© Lizelia Augusta Jenkins Moorer
You, no doubt, have heard the story told of Charleston by the sea,
How they persecute a Negro when a man he tries to be,
'Tis of national importance and the world enjoys the sport,
Caused by William Crum's appointment as collector of the port.
A Book Of Strife In The Form Of The Diary Of An Old Soul - August
© George MacDonald
1.
SO shall abundant entrance me be given
The Going Of The Battery [Wive's Lament November 2nd 1899]
© Thomas Hardy
O it was sad enough, weak enough, mad enough -
Light in their loving as soldiers can be -
First to risk choosing them, leave alone losing them
Now, in far battle, beyond the South Sea! . . .
Why, When Our Sun Shines Clearest
© James Clerk Maxwell
Why, when our sun shines clearest,
Why, when our hopes seen nearest,
The Wanderer From The Fold
© Emily Jane Brontë
How few, of all the hearts that loved,
Are grieving for thee now;
And why should mine to-night be moved
With such a sense of woe?
The Vain King
© Henry Van Dyke
And still, along the reaches of the stream,
The vain King-fisher flits, an azure gleam, --
You see his ruby crest, you hear his jealous scream.
A Poem Sacred to the Memory of Sir Isaac Newton
© James Thomson
And what new wonders can ye show your guest!
Who, while on this dim spot, where mortals toil
Clouded in dust, from motion's simple laws,
Could trace the secret hand of Providence,
Wide-working through this universal frame.
Amours De Voyage, Canto IV
© Arthur Hugh Clough
I have returned and found their names in the book at Como.
Certain it is I was right, and yet I am also in error.
Added in feminine hand, I read, By the boat to Bellaggio.-
So to Bellaggio again, with the words of he writing to aid me.
Yet at Bellaggio I find no trace, no sort of remembrance.
So I am here, and wait, and know every hour will remove them.
The Cathedral
© James Russell Lowell
Far through the memory shines a happy day,
Cloudless of care, down-shod to every sense,
On The Receipt Of My Mother's Picture Out Of Norfolk
© William Cowper
Oh that those lips had language! Life has pass'd
With me but roughly since I heard thee last.
Those lips are thinethy own sweet smiles I see,
The same that oft in childhood solaced me
A Masque Presented At Ludlow Castle, 1634. (Comus)
© John Milton
The Scene changes to a stately palace, set out with all manner of
deliciousness: soft music, tables spread with all dainties. Comus
appears with his rabble, and the LADY set in an enchanted chair;
to
whom he offers his glass; which she puts by, and goes about to
rise.
Weary Of The World, And With Heaven Most Dear
© Thomas Kingo
Farewell, world, farewell
As thrall here Im weary and no more will dwell,
