Trust poems
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Lara. A Tale
© George Gordon Byron
Proud Otho on the instant, reddening, threw
His glove on earth, and forth his sabre flew.
"The last alternative befits me best,
And thus I answer for mine absent guest."
Spring On Mattagmi
© Duncan Campbell Scott
Far in the east the rain-clouds sweep and harry,
Down the long haggard hills, formless and low,
The Mountain Of The Lovers
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
I.
LOVE scorns degrees! the low he lifteth high,
The high he draweth down to that fair plain
Whereon, in his divine equality,
At Long Last
© Ada Cambridge
Late, late, the prize is drawn, the goal attained,
The Heart's Desire fulfilled, Love's guerdon gained.
Wealth's use is past, Fame's crown of laurel mocks
The downward-drooping head and grizzled locks.
The end is reached-the end of toil and strife-
The end of life.
This World
© George MacDonald
Thy world is made to fit thine own,
A nursery for thy children small,
The playground-footstool of thy throne,
Thy solemn school-room, Father of all!
When day is done, in twilight's gloom,
We pass into thy presence-room.
With A Copy of: "In Memoriam"
© George MacDonald
Dear friend, you love the poet's song,
And here is one for your regard.
You know the "melancholy bard,"
Whose grief is wise as well as strong;
The Lady Of La Garaye - Part III
© Caroline Norton
And either tries to hide the thoughts that wring
Their secret hearts; and both essay to bring
Some happy topic, some yet lingering dream,
Which they with cheerful words shall make their theme;
But fail,--and in their wistful eyes confess
All their words never own of hopelessness.
Tale I
© George Crabbe
THE DUMB ORATORS; OR THE BENEFIT OF SOCIETY.
That all men would be cowards if they dare,
Mira's Will
© Mary Leapor
IMPRIMIS - My departed Shade I trust
To Heav'n - My Body to the silent Dust;
My Name to publick Censure I submit,
To be dispos'd of as the World thinks fit;
The Vanities Of Life
© John Clare
Vanity of vanities, all is vanity.--_Solomon_
What are life's joys and gains?
Metrical Letter, Written From London.
© Robert Southey
Margaret! my Cousin!--nay, you must not smile;
I love the homely and familiar phrase;
On The Death Of Pushkin
© Mikhail Lermontov
"Hence is he, hence! His song out-rung,
The Singer even as the song he sung;
Who of a hot, heroic mood,
In death disgraceful shed his blood!"
Elegy I. To Charles Deodati (Translated From Milton)
© William Cowper
At length, my friend, the far-sent letters come,
Charged with thy kindness, to their destin'd home,
To W.L. Garrison
© James Russell Lowell
In a small chamber, friendless and unseen,
Toiled o'er his types one poor, unlearned young man;
The place was dark, unfurnitured, and mean;
Yet there the freedom of a race began.
The Wanderer: A Vision: Canto II
© Richard Savage
What scene of agony the garden brings;
The cup of gall; the suppliant king of kings!
The crown of thorns; the cross, that felt him die;
These, languid in the sketch, unfinish'd lie.
Aurora Leigh: Book Seventh
© Elizabeth Barrett Browning
I broke on Marian there. "Yet she herself,
A wife, I think, had scandals of her own,-
A lover not her husband."
