Trust poems
/ page 60 of 157 /
Blind Sorrow
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
One bitter time of mourning, I remember,
When day, and night, my sad heart did complain,
My life, I said, was one cold, bleak December,
And all its pleasures, were but whited pain.
Trafalgar Day
© George Meredith
He leads: we hear our Seaman's call
In the roll of battles won;
For he is Britain's Admiral
Till setting of her sun.
A Retrospect
© Frances Anne Kemble
Life wanes, and the bright sunlight of our youth
Sets o'er the mountain-tops, where once Hope stood.
Youth And Manhood
© Henry Timrod
Another year! a short one, if it flow
Like that just past,
And I shall stand - if years can make me so -
A man at last.
Archduchess Anne
© George Meredith
In middle age an evil thing
Befell Archduchess Anne:
She looked outside her wedding-ring
Upon a princely man.
The Boy's Ideal
© Edgar Albert Guest
I must be fit for a child to play with,
Fit for a youngster to walk away with;
A Girl's Sin - In His Eyes
© Francis Thompson
Can I forget her cruelty
Who, brown miracle, gave you me?
OBIIT MDCCCXXXIII (Entire)
© Alfred Tennyson
Thou wilt not leave us in the dust:
Thou madest man, he knows not why,
He thinks he was not made to die;
And thou hast made him: thou art just.
Little Nellie In The Prison
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
The chaplain, with a father's gentlest grace,
Kissed the small ruffled brow, the pleading face:
"Out of the mouths of babes and sucklings still,
Praise is perfected," thought he; thus, his will
Blended with hers, and through those gates of sin,
Black, even at noontide, sire and child passed in.
The Visionary
© Emily Jane Brontë
Silent is the house: all are laid asleep:
One alone looks out oer the snow-wreaths deep,
The New Wife and the Old
© John Greenleaf Whittier
Dark the halls, and cold the feast,
Gone the bridemaids, gone the priest.
All is over, all is done,
Twain of yesterday are one!
Blooming girl and manhood gray,
Autumn in the arms of May!
The Secrets Of Divine Love Are To Be Kept
© William Cowper
Sun! stay thy course, this moment stay--
Suspend the o'er flowing tide of day,
Divulge not such a love as mine,
Ah! hide the mystery divine;
Lest man, who deems my glory shame,
Should learn the secret of my flame.
Raschi In Prague
© Emma Lazarus
Raschi of Troyes, the Moon of Israel,
The authoritative Talmudist, returned
The Night
© Ada Cambridge
Watchman, what of the night?
See you a streak of light?
Whither, O Captain of the quest,
The course we steer for Port of Rest?
Alfred. Book VI.
© Henry James Pye
But when he views, along the tented field,
With trailing banner, and inverted shield,
Young Donald, borne by Scotia's weeping bands,
In deeper woe the generous hero stands.
The First Hymn Of Callimachus. To Jupiter
© Matthew Prior
While we to Jove select the holy victim
Whom apter shall we sing than Jove himself,
For The New Year
© Edith Nesbit
FLUSHED with a crimson sunrise beauty,
The fair new year its promise gave;
