Truth poems

 / page 134 of 257 /
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A God's Labour

© Sri Aurobindo

I have gathered my dreams in a silver air
Between the gold and the blue
And wrapped them softly and left them there,
My jewelled dreams of you.

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To Jessica, Gone Back To The City

© Ellis Parker Butler

But, with fun aside, you know,
We’re blamed sorry she must go;
An’ we hope she’ll think, maybe,
‘Z well o’ us ez we o’ she.

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The Kalevala - Rune XLVI

© Elias Lönnrot

OTSO THE HONEY-EATER.


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The Vanity Of Human Wishes

© Michael Wigglesworth

I walk'd and did a little Mole-hill view

Full peopled with a most industrious crew

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Once On A Golden Day

© Mathilde Blind

Once on a golden day,
In the golden month of May,
I gave my heart away-
  Little birds were singing.

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Who Is He?

© Dora Sigerson Shorter

Who is he, dying so hard?

Hard is it to die—

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Democracy

© John Greenleaf Whittier

BEARER of Freedom's holy light,
Breaker of Slavery's chain and rod,
The foe of all which pains the sight,
Or wounds the generous ear of God!

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The Spelling Bee At Angels

© Francis Bret Harte

Waltz in, waltz in, ye little kids, and gather round my knee,
And drop them books and first pot-hooks, and hear a yarn from me.
I kin not sling a fairy tale of Jinnys fierce and wild,
For I hold it is unchristian to deceive a simple child;
But as from school yer driftin' by, I thowt ye'd like to hear
Of a "Spelling Bee" at Angels that we organized last year.

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Constantly Risking Absurdity

© Lawrence Ferlinghetti

Constantly risking absurdity
and death
whenever he performs
above the heads

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On the Death of the Rev. Dr. Sewell

© Phillis Wheatley

Ere yet the morn its lovely blushes spread,
See Sewell number'd with the happy dead.
Hail, holy man, arriv'd th' immortal shore,
Though we shall hear thy warning voice no more.

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To A Young Lady

© John Trumbull


From me, not famed for much goodnature,
Expect not compliment, but satire;
To draw your picture quite unable,
Instead of fact accept a Fable.

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M'Fingal - Canto IV

© John Trumbull


"For me, before that fatal time,
I mean to fly th' accursed clime,
And follow omens, which of late
Have warn'd me of impending fate.

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FOREWARD, is 5

© Edward Estlin Cummings

F O R E W A R DOn the assumption that my technique is either complicated or original
or both, the publishers have politely requested me to write an intro-
duction to this book.
At least my theory of technique, if I have one, is very far from

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what if a much of a which of a wind... (XX)

© Edward Estlin Cummings

what if a much of a which of a wind
gives the truth to summer's lie;
bloodies with dizzying leaves the sun
and yanks immortal stars awry?

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Jehovah buried,Satan dead,

© Edward Estlin Cummings

King Christ,this world is all aleak;
and lifepreservers there are none:
and waves which only He may walk
Who dares to call Himself a man.

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once like a spark... (XXIV)

© Edward Estlin Cummings

(once like a spark)if strangers meet
life begins-
not poor not rich
(only aware)

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my father moved through dooms of love

© Edward Estlin Cummings

my father moved through dooms of love
through sames of am through haves of give,
singing each morning out of each night
my father moved through depths of height

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one's not half two. It's two are halves of one:

© Edward Estlin Cummings

one's not half two. It's two are halves of one:
which halves reintegrating,shall occur
no death and any quantity;but than
all numerable mosts the actual more

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i am a little church

© Edward Estlin Cummings

i am a little church(no great cathedral)
far from the splendor and squalor of hurrying cities
-i do not worry if briefer days grow briefest,
i am not sorry when sun and rain make april