Trust poems

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Paradise Lost: Book VII (1674)

© Patrick Kavanagh

DEscend from Heav'n Urania, by that name

If rightly thou art call'd, whose Voice divine

For the Old Gnostics

© Robert Bly

The Fathers put their trust in the end of the world

And they were wrong. The Gnostics were right and not

from Merlin and Vivien

© Alfred Tennyson

In Love, if Love be Love, if Love be ours,
Faith and unfaith can neer be equal powers:
Unfaith in aught is want of faith in all.

Snow-Bound: A Winter Idyl

© John Greenleaf Whittier

To the Memory of the Household It Describes

This Poem is Dedicated by the Author

Normalization

© Czeslaw Milosz

They had a saying then: “Even monsters
have their mates.” So perhaps they learned to tolerate their partners’
flaws, trusting that theirs would be forgiven in turn.

The Southern Refugee

© George Moses Horton

What sudden ill the world await,

From my dear residence I roam;

Psalm 55

© Mary Sidney Herbert

My God, most glad to look, most prone to hear,

An open ear, oh, let my prayer find,

It was beautiful how he cried as he told it,
the way a drunk cries, his whole body to it,
and he hung on my shoulder saying, Between us,
always respect, and there I was, shaking with cold,
wanting to leave, and helping him walk.

Emily Hardcastle, Spinster

© Pindar

We shall come tomorrow morning, who were not to have her love,
We shall bring no face of envy but a gift of praise and lilies
To the stately ceremonial we are not the heroes of.

Ode

© Henry Timrod

Sung on the occasion of decorating the graves of the Confederate dead, at Magnolia Cemetery, Charleston, S. C., 1866
Sleep sweetly in your humble graves,
Sleep, martyrs of a fallen cause!
Though yet no marble column craves
The pilgrim here to pause.

Recessional

© Rudyard Kipling

The tumult and the shouting dies;
The Captains and the Kings depart:
Still stands Thine ancient sacrifice,
An humble and a contrite heart.
Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,
Lest we forget—lest we forget!

The Song of the Wreck

© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

The wind blew high, the waters raved,

A ship drove on the land,

Satire III

© John Donne

Kind pity chokes my spleen; brave scorn forbids

Those tears to issue which swell my eyelids;

Paradise Lost: Book X

© Patrick Kavanagh

So having said, he thus to Eve in few:
"Say, Woman, what is this which thou hast done?"
To whom sad Eve, with shame nigh overwhelm'd,
Confessing soon, yet not before her Judge
Bold or loquacious, thus abash'd replied,
"The Serpent me beguil'd, and I did eat."