Truth poems
/ page 72 of 257 /In Age
© Edith Nesbit
The wine of life was rough and new,
But sweet beyond belief,
And wrong was false, and right was true -
The rose was in the leaf.
The Pig's Tale
© Lewis Carroll
Little Birds are dining
Warily and well,
Hid in mossy cell: Hid, I say, by waiters
Gorgeous in their gaiters-
I've a Tale to tell.
Aurora Leigh: Book Niinth
© Elizabeth Barrett Browning
An active kind of curse. I stood there cursed,
Confounded. I had seized and caught the sense
Of the letter, with its twenty stinging snakes,
In a moment's sweep of eyesight, and I stood
Dazed.-"Ah! not married."
Darrynane
© Denis Florence MacCarthy
Where foams the white torrent, and rushes the rill,
Down the murmuring slopes of the echoing hill-
The Negro Schools
© Lizelia Augusta Jenkins Moorer
Please be silent now, my country, while I fill the speaker's place;
While I point out some abuses that we constantly embrace,
Listen with your best attention to the words that I shall say,
How the Negro schools are managed, in this Commonwealth today.
Ashtaroth: A Dramatic Lyric
© Adam Lindsay Gordon
Orion: But an understanding tacit.
You have prospered much since the day we met;
You were then a landless knight;
You now have honour and wealth, and yet
I never can serve you right.
Esther, A Sonnet Sequence: XXXV
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
``Silence. I will not listen!'' ``And for what?''
She added strangely, in a softer mood.
``You see I am not angry. Do you not?
Only soft--hearted, and alas! too good.
Marguerite de Roberval
© Isabel Ecclestone Mackay
Ah, my dear!
I saw you die, and could not help or save
Knowing myself to be the awful care
That weighed thee to thy grave!
Book Eleventh: France [concluded]
© William Wordsworth
But indignation works where hope is not,
And thou, O Friend! wilt be refreshed. There is
One great society alone on earth:
The noble Living and the noble Dead.
Phantasies
© Emma Lazarus
Rest, beauty, stillness: not a waif of a cloud
From gray-blue east sheer to the yellow west-
No film of mist the utmost slopes to shroud.
February Morning
© Robert Laurence Binyon
Peacefully fresh, O February morn,
Thy winds come to me: quiet the light slants
Through silver--bosomed clouds, that slowly borne
Across the wide heath, endlessly advance.
The Black Shawl
© Alexander Pushkin
As of senses bereft, at a black shawl I stare,
And my chill heart is tortured with deadly despair.
Sonnet 60: :Like as the waves make towards the pebbl'd shore..."
© William Shakespeare
Like as the waves make towards the pebbl'd shore,
So do our minutes hasten to their end;
The Lady, the Knight, and the Friar
© Thomas Love Peacock
O cavalier! what dost thou here,
Thy tuneful vigils keeping;
While the northern star looks cold from far
And half the world is sleeping?
Humanity
© Charles Harpur
I dreamed I was a sculptor, and had wrought
Out of a towering adamantine crag
Queen Mab: Part IV.
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
'How beautiful this night! the balmiest sigh,
Which vernal zephyrs breathe in evening's ear,
Ode to Duty
© William Wordsworth
. Stern Daughter of the Voice of God!
O Duty! if that name thou love
Ruth
© Henry Lawson
Are the fields of my fancy less fair through a window thats narrowed and barred?
Are the morning stars dimmed by the glare of the gas-light that flares in the yard?
No! And what does it matter to me if to-morrow I sail from the land?
I am free, as I never was free! I exult in my loneliness grand!