Truth poems
/ page 179 of 257 /
The Dunciad: Book II.
© Alexander Pope
Not with more glee, by hands Pontific crown'd,
With scarlet hats wide-waving circled round,
Rome in her Capitol saw Querno sit,
Throned on seven hills, the Antichrist of wit.
Here In This Land
© Karl Kraus
Here in this land no one gets ridicule
but he who tells the truth. He then must stand
defenseless and attract some smirking, cool
disdain. Nothing dishonors in this land.
Z---------'s dream
© Anne Brontë
Unwonted weakness o'er me crept;
I sighed - nay, weaker still - I wept!
Wept, like a woman o'er the deed
I had been proud to do: -
As I had made his bosom bleed;
My own was bleeding too.
Sonnet XXXI
© Fernando António Nogueira Pessoa
I am older than Nature and her Time
By all the timeless age of Consciousness,
Nightmare For Future Reference
© Stephen Vincent Benet
"Not like this," he said. "I can show you the curve.
It looks like the side of a mountain, going down.
And faster, the last three months yes, a good deal faster.
I showed it to Lobenheim and he was puzzled.
It makes a neat problem yes?" He looked at me.
Nightmare At Noon
© Stephen Vincent Benet
But do not call it loud. There is plenty of time.
There is plenty of time, while the bombs on London fall
And turn the world to wind and water and fire.
There is time to sleep while the fire-bombs fall on London,
They are stubborn people in London.
Oh For A Day Of Spring
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Oh for a day of Spring,
A day of flowers and folly,
Of birds that pipe and sing
And boyhood's melancholy!
I would not grudge the laughter,
The tears that followed after.
The Ghost - Book I
© Charles Churchill
With eager search to dart the soul,
Curiously vain, from pole to pole,
Mary Bateman
© John Clare
My love she wears a cotton plaid,
A bonnet of the straw;
Her cheeks are leaves of roses spread,
Her lips are like the haw.
In truth she is as sweet a maid
As true love ever saw.
Childe Harold's Pilgrimage: A Romaunt. Canto I.
© George Gordon Byron
Nay, smile not at my sullen brow,
Alas! I cannot smile again:
Yet Heaven avert that ever thou
Shouldst weep, and haply weep in vain.
Laurance - [Part 1]
© Jean Ingelow
I.
He knew she did not love him; but so long
As rivals were unknown to him, he dwelt
At ease, and did not find his love a pain.
The Rose And Thorn
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
SHE'S loveliest of the festal throng
In delicate form and Grecian face;
A beautiful, incarnate song;
A marvel of harmonious grace;
Approaching Night
© John Clare
Go with your tauntings, go;
Neer think to hurt me so;
I'll scoff at your disdain.
Cold though the winter blow,
When hills are free from snow
It will be spring again.
Auri Sacra Fames
© George Essex Evans
Gone are the mists of old in the light of the larger day!
Gone is the foolish hope, the trust in a Power above!
Science has swept the heavens and brushed religion away!
What need we hope or fear? Warfare is clothed like Love!
Priestcraft is but a tradesouls can be bought and sold!
Why should we seek for a godnow that our god is Gold?
The Angel In The House. Book II. Canto X.
© Coventry Kersey Dighton Patmore
I
At Church, in twelve hours more, we meet!
This, Dearest, is our last farewell.
Oh, Felix, do you love me? Sweet,
Why do you ask? I cannot tell.
Peace-Hymn Of The Republic
© Henry Van Dyke
O Lord our God, Thy mighty hand
Hath made our country free;
A Picture
© John Henry Newman
"The maiden is not dead, but sleepeth."
She is not gone;still in our sight
That dearest maid shall live,
In form as true, in tints as bright,
As youth and health could give.
The Banks Of Wye - Book IV
© Robert Bloomfield
Here ivy'd fragments, lowering, throw
Broad shadows on the poor below,
Who, while they rest, and when they die,
Sleep on the rock-built shores of WYE.
Sonnet XLIX. J.R.L. (On His Homeward Voyage) 1.
© Christopher Pearse Cranch
BACK from old England, in whose courts he stood
Foremost to knit by act and word the band
Between the daughter and the mother-land
In all by either prized of truth and good,
