Truth poems
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A Poet's Soliloquy
© Christopher Pearse Cranch
ON a time not of old
When a poet had sent out his soul and no welcome had found
Where the heart of the nation in prose stood fettered and bound
In fold upon fold
He called back his soul who had pined for an answer afloat;
And thus in the silence of night and the pride of his spirit he wrote.
Sonnett - VI
© James Russell Lowell
Great Truths are portions of the soul of man;
Great souls are portions of Eternity;
The Song Of Songs
© Madison Julius Cawein
I HEARD a Spirit singing as, beyond the morning winging,
Its radiant form went swinging like a star:
In its song prophetic voices mixed their sounds with trumpet-noises,
As when, loud, the World rejoices after war.
The Light of the Sun
© Kabir
THE light of the sun, the moon, and the stars shines bright:
The melody of love swells forth, and the rhythm of love's detachment beats the time.
Day and night, the chorus of music fills the heavens; and Kabîr says
"My Beloved One gleams like the lightning flash in the sky."
Address
© Francis Bret Harte
(OPENING OF THE CALIFORNIA THEATRE, SAN FRANCISCO, JANUARY 19, 1870)
Brief words, when actions wait, are well:
Rhymed Plea For Tolerance - Dialogue I
© John Kenyon
Yet the heart vents still more indignant blame,
Where Lawgivers their sullen codes proclaim,
And idly would constrain the creed within,
As if Belief were Crime, and ToleranceSin.
The Glowworm
© Madison Julius Cawein
How long had I sat there and had not beheld
The gleam of the glow-worm till something compelled!...
The Aeneid of Virgil: Book 4
© Publius Vergilius Maro
BUT anxious cares already seizd the queen:
She fed within her veins a flame unseen;
Deity
© Madison Julius Cawein
No personal; a God divinely crowned
With gold and raised upon a golden throne
Deep in a golden glory, whence he nods
Man this or that--and little more than man!
The Beauteous Flower - Son Of The Imprisioned Count
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Were I not prison'd here.
My sorrow sore oppresses me,
For when I was at liberty,
The Patteran
© Henry Lawson
I have given the love for their native land, wherever that land may be
(My children came from the East, my friends, and round by the Northern Sea),
And a son of a son of mine enemy, to the end of his treacherous line,
Shall be stricken to earth, if he dare but speak, by a son of a son of mine.
That the world shall know and my name shall glow in the light of the aftershine,
I have set the lines on my childrens palms as my fathers did on mine.
The Minstrel ; Or, The Progress Of Genius - Book II.
© James Beattie
I.
Of chance or change O let not man complain,
Else shall he never never cease to wail:
For, from the imperial dome, to where the swain
Middle Harbour
© John Le Gay Brereton
Lonely wonder, delight past hoping!
Sky-line broken by stirring trees,
Grey rocks hither and shoreward sloping,
Silent bracken about my knees.
The Three Warnings
© Hester Lynch Piozzi
The tree of deepest root is found
Least willing still to quit the ground;
A New Pilgrimage: Sonnet XXV
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
And what brave life it was we lived that tide,
Lived, or essayed to live--for who shall say
Youth garners aught but its own dreams denied,
Or handles what it hoped for yesterday?
Farmer Whipple--Bachelor
© James Whitcomb Riley
It's a mystery to see me--a man o' fifty-four,
Who's lived a cross old bachelor fer thirty year' and more--
A-lookin' glad and smilin'! And they's none o' you can say
That you can guess the reason why I feel so good to-day!
To The Right Hon. Mr. Dodington
© Edward Young
Balbutius, muffled in his sable cloak,
Like an old Druid from his hollow oak,
As ravens solemn, and as boding, cries,
"Ten thousand worlds for the three unities!"
Ye doctors sage, who through Parnassus teach,
Or quit the tub, or practise what you preach.
Song I
© James Russell Lowell
Violet! dear violet!
Thy blue eyes are only wet
With joy and love of Him who sent thee,
And for the fulfilling sense
Of that glad obedience
Which made thee all that Nature meant thee!
Under The Cedarcroft Chestnut
© Sidney Lanier
Trim set in ancient sward, his manful bole
Upbore his frontage largely toward the sky.
We could not dream but that he had a soul:
What virtue breathed from out his bravery!
