Trust poems
/ page 70 of 157 /
The Vote of Thanks Debate
© Henry Lawson
THE OTHER NIGHT I got the blues and tried to smile in vain.
I couldnt chuck a chuckle at the foolery of Twain;
Character Of The Happy Warrior
© William Wordsworth
Who is the happy Warrior? Who is he
That every man in arms should wish to be?
-It is the generous Spirit, who, when brought
Among the tasks of real life, hath wrought
Flowers From Sion: Sonnet 25 - More oft than once death whispered
© William Henry Drummond
More oft than once death whispered in mine ear:
Grave what thou hears in diamond and gold -
Her Last Letter: Being a Reply to 'His Answer'
© Francis Bret Harte
June 4th! Do you know what that date means?
June 4th! By this air and these pines!
Dorchester Amphitheatre .
© John Kenyon
By Rome's old amphitheatre I stood,
Still pretty perfect, on the Weymouth road,
The White Doe Of Rylstone, Or, The Fate Of The Nortons - Canto Third
© William Wordsworth
NOW joy for you who from the towers
Of Brancepeth look in doubt and fear,
Telling melancholy hours!
Proclaim it, let your Masters hear
Two Duets
© Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch
She. Yet Aglaia, yet Aglaia
Hath heard them debate
Of wooing repenting-
"Who trust to undoing,
Lament them too late."
To The Same (Charles Walker)
© Adam Lindsay Gordon
PUT no faith in aught you meet with, friends or lovers,
new or old,
Until The Dawn
© Edith Nesbit
WHEN head and hands and heart alike are weary;
When Hope with folded wings sinks out of sight;
When all thy striving fails to disentangle
From out wrong's skein the golden thread of right;
When all thy knowledge seems a marsh-light's glimmer,
That only shows the blackness of the night;
The Wonder-Working Magician - Act II
© Denis Florence MacCarthy
CYPRIAN. Ever wrangling in this way,
How ye both my patience try!
Why can he not go? Say why?
The Castle Of Indolence
© James Thomson
The castle hight of Indolence,
And its false luxury;
Where for a little time, alas!
We lived right jollily.
Not Even Love
© Robert Laurence Binyon
Dear child, thou know'st, I blame not thee;
Thou too, I know, hast shared the smart.
Neither did wrong; 'twas only she,
Nature, that moulded us apart.
Metamorphoses: Book The Eighth
© Ovid
The End of the Eighth Book.
Translated into English verse under the direction of
Sir Samuel Garth by John Dryden, Alexander Pope, Joseph Addison,
William Congreve and other eminent hands
Stain Not The Sky
© Henry Van Dyke
Ye gods of battle, lords of fear,
Who work your iron will as well
To Lady Beaumont
© William Wordsworth
LADY! the songs of Spring were in the grove
While I was shaping beds for winter flowers;
