Trust poems

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Hope On

© Charles Harpur

Power's a cheat, success but trying,

Even pleasure bears a sting;

And whatsoeuer other flowre of worth,
And whatso other hearb of louely hew
The iouyous Spring out of the ground brings forth,
To cloath her selfe in colours fresh and new;
He planted there, and reard a mount of earth,
In whose high front was writ as doth ensue.

Xvi

© Emily Dickinson

To fight aloud, is very brave
But gallanter, I know
Who charge within the bosom
The Cavalry of Woe

The Borough. Letter XIX: The Parish-Clerk

© George Crabbe

WITH our late Vicar, and his age the same,
His clerk, hight Jachin, to his office came;
The like slow speech was his, the like tall slender

On Queen Anne's Peace, Anno 1713

© Thomas Parnell

Mother of plenty, daughter of the skies,
Sweet Peace, the troubl'd world's desire, arise;
Around thy poet weave thy summer shades,
Within my fancy spread thy flow'ry meads,
Amongst thy train soft ease and pleasure bring,
And thus indulgent sooth me whilst I sing.

Give Your Heart To The Hawks

© Robinson Jeffers

I

The apples hung until a wind at the equinox,

An Old Love

© Carolyn Wells

Priscilla, Auntie's promised me
A brand-new Paris doll;
And though I love you, yet you see
I cannot keep you all.

The Victories Of Love. Book II

© Coventry Kersey Dighton Patmore

II
From Lady Clitheroe To Mary Churchill

The Creek of the Four Graves [Early Version]

© Charles Harpur

And feeling thus by habit, that poor man
Though the black shadow of untimely death
Hopelessly thickened under every stroke,
Upstruggled desperate, until at last,
One, as in mercy, gave him to the dust,
With all his sorrows.

Vanitas Vanitatum, Omnia Vanitas

© Anne Brontë

In all we do, and hear, and see,
Is restless Toil and Vanity.
While yet the rolling earth abides,
Men come and go like ocean tides;

Will

© Paul Hamilton Hayne

YOUR face, my boy, when six months old,
We propped you laughing in a chair,
And the sun-artist caught the gold
Which rippled o'er your waving hair!

The Holy Innocents

© John Keble

Say, ye celestial guards, who wait

In Bethlehem, round the Saviour's palace gate,

Hymn To Mercury

© Percy Bysshe Shelley

TRANSLATED FROM THE GREEK OF HOMER.
I.
Sing, Muse, the son of Maia and of Jove,
The Herald-child, king of Arcadia

Westward

I found my Love among the fern. She slept.
My shadow stole across her, as I stept
More lightly and slowly, seeing her pillowed so
In the short--turfed and shelving green hollow

The Farmer's Boy - Spring

Down, indignation! hence, ideas foul!
Away the shocking image from my soul!
Let kindlier visitants attend my way,
Beneath approaching _Summer's_ fervid ray;
Nor thankless glooms obtrude, nor cares annoy,
Whilst the sweet theme is _universal joy_.

To Harriet

Thy look of love has power to calm
The stormiest passion of my soul;
Thy gentle words are drops of balm
In life's too bitter bowl;
No grief is mine, but that alone
These choicest blessings I have known.