Truth poems
/ page 75 of 257 /The Corsair
© George Gordon Byron
1.
'Deep in my soul that tender secret dwells,
Lonely and lost to light for evermore,
Save when to thine my heart responsive swells,
Then trembles into silence as before
To The Memory Of The Right Honourable Lord Talbot, Late Chancellor Of Great Britain. Addressed To Hi
© James Thomson
While with the public, you, my Lord, lament
A friend and father lost; permit the muse,
Lines Addressed To The Rev. J. T. Becher, On His Advising The Author To Mix More With Society
© George Gordon Byron
The fire in the cavern of Etna conceal'd
Still mantles unseen in its secret recess;
At length, in a volume terrific reveal'd,
No torrent can quench it, no bounds can repress.
The Gascon Punished
© Jean de La Fontaine
THE dame, indeed, the Gascon only jeered,
And e'er denied herself when he appeared;
But when she met the wight, who sought to shine;
And called her angel, beauteous and divine,
She fled and hastened to a female friend,
Where she could laugh, and at her ease unbend.
The Teacher Of Wisdom
© Oscar Wilde
From his childhood he had been as one filled with the perfect
knowledge of God, and even while he was yet but a lad many of the
saints, as well as certain holy women who dwelt in the free city of
his birth, had been stirred to much wonder by the grave wisdom of
his answers.
Thespis: Act I
© William Schwenck Gilbert
Jupiter, Aged Diety
Apollo, Aged Diety
Mars, Aged Diety
Diana, Aged Diety
Mercury
Songs of the Spring Nights
© George MacDonald
The flush of green that dyed the day
Hath vanished in the moon;
Flower-scents float stronger out, and play
An unborn, coming tune.
For The Man Who Fails
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
The world is a snob, and the man who wins
Is the chap for its money's worth:
A Fact, And An Imagination, Or, Canute And Alfred, On The Seashore
© William Wordsworth
THE Danish Conqueror, on his royal chair,
Mustering a face of haughty sovereignty,
To aid a covert purpose, cried--"O ye
Approaching Waters of the deep, that share
The Letter of Cupid
© Thomas Hoccleve
Hir wordes spoken been so sighingly
And with so pitous cheere and contenance,
That every wight that meeneth trewely
Deemeth that they in herte han swich greuance.
They sayn so importable is hir penance
Disillusioned
© Corinna
People holding hands, daring to love,
children playing, no one left out,
believing in a God, high above,
no reasons given to cry out loud.
Isabella; Or, The Pot Of Basil: A Story From Boccaccio
© John Keats
I.
Fair Isabel, poor simple Isabel!
Womans Love
© Frances Anne Kemble
A maiden meek, with solemn, steadfast eyes,
Full of eternal constancy and faith,
Tentacles of Time
© Kabir
The Saints Have Died, The God-Messengers Die
The Life-Filled Yogis Die Too |
The Kings Die, The Subjects Die
The Healers and the Sick Die Too ||
The Brothers
© Madison Julius Cawein
Not far from here, it lies beyond
That low-hilled belt of woods. We'll take
This unused lane where brambles make
A wall of twilight, and the blond
Brier-roses pelt the path and flake
The margin waters of a pond.
Celia To Damon
© Matthew Prior
What can I say? What Arguments can prove
My Truth? What Colors can describe my Love?
If it's Excess and Fury be not known,
In what Thy Celia has already done?
At The End Of The Road
© Madison Julius Cawein
THIS is the truth as I see it, my dear,
Out in the wind and the rain:
They who have nothing have little to fear,
Nothing to lose or to gain.