Trust poems

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Thekla's Song; Or, The Voice Of A Spirit

© Felicia Dorothea Hemans

Ask'st thou my home?-my pathway wouldst thou know,
When from thine eye my floating shadow pass'd?
Was not my work fulfill'd and closed below?
Had I not liv'd and lov'd?-my lot was cast.

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The Parish Register - Part II: Marriages

© George Crabbe

made.
Yet now, would Phoebe her consent afford,
Her slave alone, again he'd mount the board;
With her should years of growing love be spent,
And growing wealth;--she sigh'd and look'd consent.
  Now, through the lane, up hill, and 'cross the

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To E. C. S.

© John Greenleaf Whittier

Poet and friend of poets, if thy glass

Detects no flower in winter's tuft of grass,

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Winter Blues

© Barry Tebb

For Penny Abraham

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To Four Psychoanalysts

© Barry Tebb

Richard Chessick, John Gedo, James Grotstein and Vamik Voltan

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Marginalia

© Barry Tebb

Here is a silence I had not hoped for

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The Reunion

© John Greenleaf Whittier

The gulf of seven and fifty years
We stretch our welcoming hands across;
The distance but a pebble's toss
Between us and our youth appears.

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Rhymes for Gloriana

© Vachel Lindsay


This doll upon the topmost bough,
This playmate-gift, in Christmas dress,
Was taken down and brought to me
One sleety night most comfortless.

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How beautiful the Earth is still

© Emily Jane Brontë

How beautiful the Earth is still
To thee–how full of Happiness;
How little fraught with real ill
Or shadowy phantoms of distress;

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The Thorn Forest

© Dante Alighieri

Then dark with dripping blood it gave a howl
and cried again: "Our damaged branches ache!
Your pillage maims me! Can't you feel at all?

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Tears At The Grave Of Sir Albertus Morton (Who Was Buried At Southampton) Wept By Sir H. Wotton.

© Sir Henry Wotton

Silence (in truth) would speak my sorrow best,
For, deepest wounds can least their feelings tell;
Yet, let me borrow from mine own unrest,
But time to bid him, whom I lov'd, farewel.

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Ordination

© John Keble

'Twas silence in Thy temple, Lord,
  When slowly through the hallowed air
The spreading cloud of incense soared,
  Charged with the breath of Israel's prayer.

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The Stealing Of The Mare - VII

© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt

Said the Narrator:
And when they had lit the fire, while Alia watched the kindling, behold, her fear was great, and her eyes looked to the right and to the left hand, because that Abu Zeyd had promised her that he would return to the camp; and while she was in this wise, suddenly she saw Abu Zeyd standing in the midst of the Arabs who were around her. And he was in disguisement as a dervish, or one of those who ask alms. And he saw that she was about to speak. But he signed to her that she should be silent: as it were he would say, ``Fear not, for I am here.'' And when she was sure that it was indeed he Abu Zeyd and none other, then smiled she on him very sweetly, and said, ``Thine be the victory, and I will be thy ransom. Nor shall thy enemies prevail against thee.'' But he answered with a sign, ``Of a surety thou shalt see somewhat that shall astonish thee.'' And this he said as the flames of the fire broke forth.
Now the cause of the coming of Abu Zeyd to the place was in this wise. After that he had gone away, and had taken with him the mare, and that his mind had entered into its perplexity as to what might befall Alia from her father, lest he should seize on her and inquire what had happened, and why she had cared nothing for her own people or for her wounded brother, and why she had cried to Abu Zeyd, then said he to himself, ``Of a surety I must return to her, and ascertain the event.'' And looking about him, he made discovery of a cave known as yet to no man, and he placed in it the mare, and gathered grass for her, and closed the door of the cave with stones. Then clothing himself as a dervish, he made his plan how he should return to the tents of Agheyl. And forthwith he found Alia in the straits already told, and he made his thought known to her by signs, and by signs she gave him to understand her answers.
And at this point the Narrator began again to sing, and it was in the following verses:

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The Young British Soldier

© Rudyard Kipling

When the 'arf-made recruity goes out to the East
'E acts like a babe an' 'e drinks like a beast,
An' 'e wonders because 'e is frequent deceased
Ere 'e's fit for to serve as a soldier.

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Brave Boys Are They!

© Henry Clay Work

Brave boys are they!
 Gone at their country's call;
And yet, and yet we cannot forget
 That many brave boys must fall.

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White Horses

© Rudyard Kipling

Where run your colts at pasture?
Where hide your mares to breed?
'Mid bergs about the Ice-cap
Or wove Sargasso weed;

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To the True Romance

© Rudyard Kipling

Thy face is far from this our war,
Our call and counter-cry,
I shall not find Thee quick and kind,
Nor know Thee till I die,

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A Tree Song

© Rudyard Kipling


Sing Oak, and Ash, and Thorn, good sirs
(All of a Midsummer morn):
England shall bide ti11 Judgment Tide,
By Oak, and Ash, and Thorn!

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Tarrant Moss

© Rudyard Kipling

I closed and drew for my love's sake
That now is false to me,
And I slew the Reiver of Tarrant Moss
And set Dumeny free.

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The Domestic Affections

© Felicia Dorothea Hemans

Favor'd of Heav'n! O Genius! are they thine,
When round thy brow the wreaths of glory shine;
While rapture gazes on thy radiant way,
'Midst the bright realms of clear and mental day?