Truth poems
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A Third Letter From B. Sawin, Esq.
© James Russell Lowell
I spose you recollect thet I explained my gennle views
In the last billet thet I writ, 'way down frum Veery Cruze,
The Last Rose Of Summer
© Charles Wolfe
That strain again? It seems to tell
Of something like a joy departed;
I love its mourning accents well,
Like voice of one, ah! broken-hearted.
The King Of Sweden
© William Wordsworth
THE Voice of song from distant lands shall call
To that great King; shall hail the crowned Youth
The Viceroy. A Ballad.
© Matthew Prior
Of Nero, tyrant, petty king,
Who heretofore did reign
In famed Hibernia, I will sing,
And in a ditty plain.
Consummatum Est
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
I'VE done with all the world can give,
Whate'er its kind or measure.
(O Christ! what paltry lives we live
If toil be lord, or pleasure!).
To A Victor In A Game Of Pallone
© Giacomo Leopardi
The face of glory and her pleasant voice,
O fortunate youth, now recognize,
Noontide Hymn
© George MacDonald
I love thy skies, thy sunny mists,
Thy fields, thy mountains hoar,
Thy wind that bloweth where it lists-
Thy will, I love it more.
Beauty. Part III.
© Henry James Pye
'Tis in the mind that Beauty stands confess'd,
In all the noblest pride of glory dress'd,
Where virtue's rules the conscious bosom arm,
There to our eyes she spreads her brightest charm:
There all her rays, with force collected, shine,
Proclaim her worth, and speak her race divine.
The Towers of Time
© Gilbert Keith Chesterton
(There is never a crack in the ivory tower
Or a hinge to groan in the house of gold
Or a leaf of the rose in the wind to wither
And she grows young as the world grows old.
A Woman clothed with the sun returning
to clothe the sun when the sun is cold.)
The Ladder Of St. Augustine. (Birds Of Passage. Flight The First)
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Saint Augustine! well hast thou said,
That of our vices we can frame
A Flower Garden At Coleorton Hall, Leicestershire.
© William Wordsworth
TELL me, ye Zephyrs! that unfold,
While fluttering o'er this gay Recess,
Pinions that fanned the teeming mould
Of Eden's blissful wilderness,
Did only softly-stealing hours
There close the peaceful lives of flowers?
A First Confession
© William Butler Yeats
I admit the briar
Entangled in my hair
Did not injure me;
My blenching and trembling,
Nothing but dissembling,
Nothing but coquetry.
Aurora Leigh: Book Eighth
© Elizabeth Barrett Browning
In my ears
The sound of waters. There he stood, my king!
The Curse Of The Charter-Breakers
© John Greenleaf Whittier
IN Westminster's royal halls,
Robed in their pontificals,
England's ancient prelates stood
For the people's right and good.
Ephesus
© John Newton
Thus saith the Lord to Ephesus,
And thus he speaks to some of us;
Amidst my churches, lo, I stand,
And hold the pastors in my hand.
Over the hills and far away
© Eugene Field
Over the hills and far away,
A little boy steals from his morning play
I am the Great Sun
© Charles Causley
From a Normandy crucifix of 1632
I am the great sun, but you do not see me,
El Harith
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Lightly took she her leave of me, Asmá--u,
went no whit as a guest who outstays a welcome;
Went forgetting our trysts, Burkát Shemmá--u,
all the joys of our love, our love's home, Khalsá--u.
