Trust poems
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To My Readers
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
NAY, blame me not; I might have spared
Your patience many a trivial verse,
Yet these my earlier welcome shared,
So, let the better shield the worse.
A Girls' Grave
© Patrick Edward Quinn
What story is here of broken love,
What idyllic sad romance,
What arrow fretted the silken dove
That met with such grim mischance?
To the memory of my dear Daughter in Law, Mrs. Mercy Bradstreet, who deceased Sept. 6. 1669. in the
© Anne Bradstreet
And live I still to see Relations gone,
And yet survive to sound this wailing tone;
John
© Edgar Bowers
Before he wrote a poem, he learned the measure
That living in the future gives a farm-
A Hidden Life
© George MacDonald
Ah God! when Beauty passes by the door,
Although she ne'er came in, the house grows bare.
Shut, shut the door; there's nothing in the house.
Why seems it always that it should be ours?
A secret lies behind which Thou dost know,
And I can partly guess.
First Sunday After Epiphany
© John Keble
Lessons sweet of spring returning,
Welcome to the thoughtful heart!
The King and the Siren
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
The harsh King-Winter-sat upon the hills,
And reigned and ruled the earth right royally.
The Troubadour. Canto 3
© Letitia Elizabeth Landon
But sadness moved him when he gave
DE VALENCE to his lowly grave,--
The grave where the wild flowers were sleeping,
And one pale olive-tree was weeping,--
And placed the rude stone cross to show
A Christian hero lay below.
In Memoriam Matris
© Arthur Patchett Martin
IN my hot youth I rashly penned
A Sonnet of the After-life.
It was the time of stress and strife
Through which the ardent soul must wend.
The Hermit of Thebaid
© John Greenleaf Whittier
O strong, upwelling prayers of faith,
From inmost founts of life ye start,-
The spirit's pulse, the vital breath
Of soul and heart!
"Blessed are they that Mourn"
© William Cullen Bryant
Oh, deem not they are blest alone
Whose lives a peaceful tenor keep;
The Power who pities man, has shown
A blessing for the eyes that weep.
The Stricken South To The North
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
WHEN ruthful time the South's memorial places--
Her heroes' graves--had wreathed in grass and flowers;
When Peace ethereal, crowned by all her graces,
Returned to make more bright the summer hours;
The Great Lover
© Rupert Brooke
O dear my loves, O faithless, once again
This one last gift I give: that after men
Shall know, and later lovers, far-removed,
Praise you, "All these were lovely"; say "He loved".
Heaven
© Rupert Brooke
Fish (fly-replete, in depth of June,
Dawdling away their wat'ry noon)
Ponder deep wisdom, dark or clear,
Each secret fishy hope or fear.
The Enthusiast
© Herman Melville
"Though He slay me, yet will I trust in Him"Shall hearts that beat no base retreat
In youth's magnanimous years -
Ignoble hold it, if discreet
When interest tames to fears;
The Troubadour. Canto 2
© Letitia Elizabeth Landon
THE first, the very first; oh! none
Can feel again as they have done;
In love, in war, in pride, in all
The planets of life's coronal,
However beautiful or bright,--
What can be like their first sweet light?
Reflections IV.
© Samuel Rogers
This Child, so lovely and so cherub-like,
(No fairer spirit in the heaven of heavens)
Say, must he know remorse? must Passion come,
Passion in all or any of its shapes,
