Trust poems
/ page 22 of 157 /A Father's Tribute
© Edgar Albert Guest
I don't know what they'll put him at, or what
his post may be;
The Ring And The Book - Chapter XII - The Book And The Ring
© Robert Browning
HERE were the end, had anything an end:
Thus, lit and launched, up and up roared and soared
Norman and Saxon
© Rudyard Kipling
My son," said the Norman Baron, "I am dying, and you will be heir
To all the broad acres in England that William gave me for my share
When we conquered the Saxon at Hastings, and a nice little handful it is.
But before you go over to rule it I want you to understand this:
Black Mousquetaire: A Legend Of France
© Richard Harris Barham
No triumphs flush that haughty brow,-
No proud exulting look is there,-
His eagle glance is humbled now,
As, earthward bent, in anxious care
It seeks the form whose stalwart pride
But yester-morn was by his side!
Book Fourth [Summer Vacation]
© William Wordsworth
BRIGHT was the summer's noon when quickening steps
Followed each other till a dreary moor
The Shepherds Calendar - July
© John Clare
Daughter of pastoral smells and sights
And sultry days and dewy nights
July resumes her yearly place
Wi her milking maiden face
I See Thee Not
© George MacDonald
Yes, Master, when thou comest thou shalt find
A little faith on earth, if I am here!
Thou know'st how oft I turn to thee my mind.
How sad I wait until thy face appear!
Farewell And Defiance To Love
© John Clare
Love and thy vain employs, away
From this too oft deluded breast!
To Lucasta From Prison An Epode
© Richard Lovelace
I.
Long in thy shackels, liberty
I ask not from these walls, but thee;
Left for awhile anothers bride,
To fancy all the world beside.
Truth
© Geoffrey Chaucer
Fle fro the pres, and dwelle with sothefastness{.e},
Suffise thin owen thing, thei it be smal;
For hord hath hate, and clymbyng tykelness{.e},
Prees hath envye, and wel{.e} blent overal.
Lettice
© Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
I said to Lettice, our sister Lettice,
While drooped and glistened her eyelash brown,
"Your man's a poor man, a cold and dour man,
There's many a better about our town."
The Fovrth Booke Of Qvodlibets
© Robert Hayman
Sermons and Epigrams haue a like end,
To improue, to reproue, and to amend:
Some passe without this vse, 'cause they are witty;
And so doe many Sermons, more's the pitty.
The Visions Of Petrarch
© Edmund Spenser
Being one day at my window all alone,
So manie strange things happened me to see,
Death of Ben Hall
© Anonymous
Come all Australia's sons to me -
A hero has been slain
And cowardly butchered in his sleep
Upon the Lachlan Plain.
Down by the Sydney Side
© Anonymous
Over near a chock-and-log hut,
Down by the river-side,
A bronzed young bushman sat,
Telling his blushing bride
The time had come when he must rove
Down by the Sydney side.
Foreshadowings
© Henry Kendall
FIFTEEN miles and then the harbour! Here we cannot choose but stand,
Faces thrust towards the day-break, listening for our native land!
King Arthur's Death
© Thomas Percy
On Trinitye Mondaye in the morne,
This sore battayle was doom'd to bee,
Where manye a knighte cry'd, Well-awaye!
Alacke, it was the more pittìe.
Native Land
© Mikhail Lermontov
I love my native land with such perverse affection!
My better judgement has no standing here.
Not glory, won in bloody action,
nor yet that calm demeanour, trusting and austere,
nor yet age-hallowed rites or handed-down traditions;
not one can stir my soul to gratifying visions.
My Wife
© Robert Louis Stevenson
Trusty, dusky, vivid, true,
With eyes of gold and bramble-dew,
Steel-true and blade-straight,
The great artificer
Made my mate.