Truth poems
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Standing On Tiptoe
© George Frederick Cameron
STANDING on tiptoe ever since my youth
Striving to grasp the future just above,
I hold at length the only futureTruth,
And Truth is Love.
Upon His Majesty's Happy Return
© Edmund Waller
The rising sun complies with our weak sight,
First gilds the clouds, then shows his globe of light
At such a distance from our eyes, as though
He knew what harm his hasty beams would do.
The Loving One Once More
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
WHY do I o'er my paper once more bend?
Ask not too closely, dearest one, I pray
The Shepherd's Calendar - August
© John Clare
Harvest approaches with its bustling day
The wheat tans brown and barley bleaches grey
Reflex Musings: Reflections From Various Surfaces
© James Clerk Maxwell
In the dense entangled street,
Where the web of Trade is weaving,
Oh! Mr. Malthus!
© Stephen Leacock
Turn back to Malthus as he walked o'er English Fields and Downs
And walked at night the crooked Streets of crooked English Towns,
Lifeless, undying, Shade or Man, as one that could not die
A hundred years his Shadow fell, a hundred Years to lie,
The Shadow on the Window Pane when Malthus' Ghost went by.
The Truth the Dead Know
© Anne Sexton
Gone, I say and walk from church,
refusing the stiff procession to the grave,
letting the dead ride alone in the hearse.
It is June. I am tired of being brave.
Just Once
© Anne Sexton
Just once I knew what life was for.
In Boston, quite suddenly, I understood;
walked there along the Charles River,
watched the lights copying themselves,
He Had So Much Work To Do
© Henry Lawson
Jim was trucking for a sawmill to make money for the home,
He was making, out of Mudgee, for the family to come,
And a load-chain snapped the switch-bar, and Black Anderson found Jim,
In the morning, in a creek-bed, with a log on top of him.
The Milk Maid on the First of May
© Robert Bloomfield
Hail, MAY! lovely MAY! how replenish'd my pails!
The young Dawn overspreads the East streak'd with gold!
My glad heart beats time to the laugh of the Vales,
And COLIN'S voice rings through the woods from the fold.
Which Shall It Be
© Ethel Lynn Eliot Beers
Pale, patient Robbie's angel face
Still in his sleep bore suffering's trace;
``No, for a thousand crowns, not him,''
He whispered, while our eyes were dim.
Sonnet XIV. On The Religious Memory Of Mrs. Catharine Thomson, My Christian Friend, Deceas'd 16 Dece
© John Milton
When Faith and Love which parted from thee never,
Had ripen'd thy just soul to dwell with God,
Meekly thou didst resign this earthy load
Of Death, call'd Life; which us from Life doth sever
The Princess (part 2)
© Alfred Tennyson
At break of day the College Portress came:
She brought us Academic silks, in hue
To the Myrtle
© Mary Darby Robinson
UNFADING branch of verdant hue,
In modest sweetness drest,
Shake off thy pearly tears of dew,
And decorate my breast.
To Simplicity
© Mary Darby Robinson
[Inscribed to Lady Duncannon.]
SWEET blushing Nymph, who loves to dwell
In the dark forest's silent gloom;
Who smiles within the Hermit's cell,
The Prisoner: Pt 1
© Emily Jane Brontë
In the dungeon crypts idly did I stray,
Reckless of the lives wasting there away;
"Draw the ponderous bars; open, Warder stern!"
He dare not say me naythe hinges harshly turn.
Sonnet Written After Having Read A. F. Rios, Petite Chouaunerie
© John Kenyon
Call not our Bretons backward. What if rude
Of speech and mien, and rude of fashiondrest;
The Granny Grey, a Love Tale
© Mary Darby Robinson
The DAME was silent; for the Lover
Would, when she spoke,
She fear'd, discover
Her envious joke:
And she was too much charm'd to be
In haste,--to end the Comedy!
