Truth poems
/ page 150 of 257 /An Epistle Containing the Strange Medical Experience of Karshish, the Arab Physician
© Robert Browning
Karshish, the picker-up of learning's crumbs,
The not-incurious in God's handiwork
The Nail
© C. K. Williams
Some dictator or other had gone into exile, and now reports were coming about his regime,
the usual crimes, torture, false imprisonment, cruelty and corruption, but then a detail:
Paradise Lost: Book IV
© Patrick Kavanagh
"Which of those rebel Spirits adjudg'd to Hell
Com'st thou, escap'd thy prison? and, transform'd,
Why satt'st thou like an enemy in wait,
Here watching at the head of these that sleep?"
The Dedication
© Henry Vaughan
To my most merciful, my most loving, and dearly
loved REDEEMER, the ever blessed, the only
HOLY and JUST ONE,
JESUS CHRIST,
A Drinking Song
© William Butler Yeats
Wine comes in at the mouth
And love comes in at the eye;
That’s all we shall know for truth
Before we grow old and die.
I lift the glass to my mouth,
I look at you, and I sigh.
To Lady Noel Byron
© George MacDonald
Men sought, ambition's thirst to slake,
The lost elixir old
Whose magic touch should instant make
The meaner metals gold.
Hymn to Life
© James Schuyler
The wind rests its cheek upon the ground and feels the cool damp
And lifts its head with twigs and small dead blades of grass
Portico
© Rubén Dario
I am the singer who of late put by
The verse azulean and the chant profane,
Across whose nights a rossignol would cry
And prove himself a lark at morn again.
The Prayer Of Nature
© George Gordon Byron
Father of Light! great God of Heaven!
Hear'st thou the accents of despair?
Can guilt like man's be e'er forgiven?
Can vice atone for crimes by prayer?
Alma Mater
© Amy Levy
Oh, who can sound the human breast?
And this strange truth must be confessed;
That city do I love the best
Wherein my heart was heaviest!
To A Friend Whose Work Has Come To Nothing
© William Butler Yeats
NOW all the truth is out,
Be secret and take defeat
Poems - Written On The Deaths Of Three Lovely Children
© Jean Ingelow
Yellow leaves, how fast they flutter-woodland hollows thickly strewing,
Where the wan October sunbeams scantly in the mid-day win,
While the dim gray clouds are drifting, and in saddened hues imbuing
All without and all within!
Rich And Poor
© Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
Neath the radiance faint of the starlit sky
The gleaming snow-drifts lay wide and high;
Oer hill and dell stretched a mantle white,
The branches glittered with crystal bright;
But the winter winds keen icy breath
Was merciless, numbing and chill as death.
Fears In Solitude. Written In April, 1798, During The Alarm Of An Invasion
© Samuel Taylor Coleridge
A green and silent spot, amid the hills,
A small and silent dell! O'er stiller place
No singing sky-lark ever poised himself.
The hills are heathy, save that swelling slope,
An Essay on Man: Epistle I
© Alexander Pope
To Henry St. John, Lord Bolingbroke
Awake, my St. John! leave all meaner things
Esther, A Sonnet Sequence: LII
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
I lived with Esther, not for many days,
If days be counted by the fall of night
And the sun's rising, yet through years of praise,
If truth be timepiece of joys infinite.
Sexsmith the Dentist
© Edgar Lee Masters
Do you think that odes and sermons,
And the ringing of church bells,
Ormuzd And Ahriman. Part II
© Christopher Pearse Cranch
Fear not, for ye shall live if ye receive
The life divine, obedient to the law
Of truth and good. So shall there be no frown
Upon his face who wills the good of all.
The Net Of Memory
© Govinda Krishna Chettur
I cast the Net of Memory,
Man's torment and delight,
Over the level Sands of Youth
That lay serenely bright,
Their tranquil gold at times submerged
In the Spring Tides of Love's Delight.