Trust poems
/ page 63 of 157 /From Mount Gerizzim
© John Bunyan
Besides what I said of the Four Last Things,
And of the weal and woe that from them springs;
The Borough. Letter XVI: Inhabitants Of The Alms-House. Benlow
© George Crabbe
SEE! yonder badgeman with that glowing face,
A meteor shining in this sober place!
Sonnet XVIII. To The Earl Of Egremont
© Charlotte Turner Smith
WYNDHAM! 'tis not thy blood, though pure it runs
Through a long line of glorious ancestry,
Percys and Seymours, Britain's boasted sons,
Who trust the honours of their race to thee:
The Cap And Bells; Or, The Jealousies: A Faery Tale -- Unfinished
© John Keats
I.
In midmost Ind, beside Hydaspes cool,
Seeing Thou Art Fair
© Ovid
SEEING thou art fair, I bar not thy false playing,
But let not me poor soul know of thy straying.
Ode XI: To The Country Gentlemen Of England
© Mark Akenside
I.
Whither is Europe's ancient spirit fled?
Songs with Preludes: Friendship
© Jean Ingelow
Beautiful eyes,—and shall I see no more
The living thought when it would leap from them,
And play in all its sweetness ’neath their lids?
The Borrowed Axe
© John Newton
The prophets sons, in time of old,
Though to appearance poor;
Were rich without possessing gold,
And honoured, though obscure.
To The Thirty-Ninth Congress
© John Greenleaf Whittier
O PEOPLE-CHOSEN! are ye not
Likewise the chosen of the Lord,
To do His will and speak His word?
From the loud thunder-storm of war
Idyll XXV. Heracles the Lion Slayer
© Theocritus
To whom thus spake the herdsman of the herd,
Pausing a moment from his handiwork:
"Friend, I will solve thy questions, for I fear
The angry looks of Hermes of the roads.
No dweller in the skies is wroth as he,
With him who saith the asking traveller nay.
The Child Of The Islands - Spring
© Caroline Norton
I.
WHAT shalt THOU know of Spring? A verdant crown
Of young boughs waving o'er thy blooming head:
White tufted Guelder-roses, showering down
The Return Of Peace
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
They could not quell the grieved and shuddering air,
That breathed about me its forlorn despair:
It almost seemed as if stern Triumph sped
To one whose hopes were dead,
And flaunting there his fortune's ruddier grace,
Smote--with a taunt--wan Misery in the face!
Fourth Sunday In Lent
© John Keble
When Nature tries her finest touch,
Weaving her vernal wreath,
Mark ye, how close she veils her round,
Not to be traced by sight or sound,
Nor soiled by ruder breath?
Ode Recited At The Harvard Commemoration July 21, 1865
© James Russell Lowell
Weak-Winged is Song,
Nor aims at that clear-ethered height
To Rutherford Birchard Hayes
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
How to address him? awkward, it is true
Call him "Great Father," as the Red Men do?
Borrow some title? this is not the place
That christens men Your Highness and Your Grace;
We tried such names as these awhile, you know,
But left them off a century ago.
Polyhymnia
© George Peele
Therefore, when thirtie two were come and gone,
Years of her raigne, daies of her countries peace,
Elizabeth great Empresse of the world,
Britanias Atlas, Star of Englands globe,
Quatrains
© Madison Julius Cawein
Above his misered embers, gnarled and gray,
With toil-twitched limbs he bends; around his hut,
Want, like a hobbling hag, goes night and day,
Scolding at windows and at doors tight-shut.
Manfred: A Dramatic Poem. Act II.
© George Gordon Byron
CHAMOIS HUNTER
No, no -- yet pause -- thou must not yet go forth:
Thy mind and body are alike unfit
To trust each other, for some hours, at least;
When thou art better, I will be thy guide--
But whither?
Jerusalem Delivered - Book 06 - part 04
© Torquato Tasso
XLIII
The Pagan ill defenced with sword or targe,