Forgiveness poems

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Black Mousquetaire: A Legend Of France

© Richard Harris Barham

No triumphs flush that haughty brow,-
No proud exulting look is there,-
His eagle glance is humbled now,
As, earthward bent, in anxious care
It seeks the form whose stalwart pride
But yester-morn was by his side!

The Earth-Spirit

© William Ellery Channing

Then spoke the Spirit of the Earth,

Her gentle voice like a soft water's song--

Griselda: A Society Novel In Verse - Chapter I

© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt

And thus I first beheld her, standing calm
In the swayed crowd upon her husband's arm,
One opera night, the centre of all eyes,
So proud she seemed, so fair, so sweet, so wise.
Some one behind me whispered ``Lady L.!
His Lordship too! and thereby hangs a tale.''

A Song Of Love

© Virna Sheard

Love reckons not by time--its May days of delight

Are swifter than the falling stars that pass beyond our sight.

The Warrior's Return

© Amelia Opie

Sir Walter returned from the far Holy Land,
And a blood-tinctured falchion he bore;
But such precious blood as now darkened his sword
Had never distained it before.

The Disciple

© George MacDonald

The times are changed, and gone the day
When the high heavenly land,
Though unbeheld, quite near them lay,
And men could understand.

The Obliterate Tomb

© Thomas Hardy

'More than half my life long
Did they weigh me falsely, to my bitter wrong,
But they all have shrunk away into the silence
Like a lost song.

Tannhauser

© Emma Lazarus

Far into Wartburg, through all Italy,
In every town the Pope sent messengers,
Riding in furious haste; among them, one
Who bore a branch of dry wood burst in bloom;
The pastoral rod had borne green shoots of spring,
And leaf and blossom. God is merciful.

Hope

© William Cowper

Ask what is human life -- the sage replies,

With disappointment lowering in his eyes,

The Empty Purse--A Sermon To Our Later Prodigal Son

© George Meredith

Thy knowledge of women might be surpassed:
As any sad dog's of sweet flesh when he quits
The wayside wandering bone!
No revilings of comrades as ingrates: thee
The tempter, misleader, and criminal (screened
By laws yet barbarous) own.

Too Late "Dowglas, Dowglas, Tendir And Treu"

© Dinah Maria Mulock Craik

Could ye come back to me, Douglas, Douglas,
In the old likeness that I knew,
I would be so faithful, so loving, Douglas,
Douglas, Douglas, tender and true.

Fragments from 'Genius Lost'

© Charles Harpur

Prelude
I SEE the boy-bard neath lifes morning skies,
While hopes bright cohorts guess not of defeat,
And ardour lightens from his earnest eyes,
And faiths cherubic wings around his being beat.

The Good Shepherd With The Kid

_He saves the sheep, the goats he doth not save._
So rang Tertullian's sentence, on the side
Of that unpitying Phrygian Sect which cried:
"Him can no fount of fresh forgiveness lave,

Too Late

COULD ye come back to me, Douglas, Douglas,
In the old likeness that I knew,
I would be so faithful, so loving, Douglas,
Douglas, Douglas, tender and true.

On Revisiting Harrow

Here once engaged the stranger's view
Young Friendship's record simply traced;
Few were her words; but yet, though few,
Resentment's hand the line defaced.

The House Of Dust: {Complete}

© Conrad Aiken

The sun goes down in a cold pale flare of light.
The trees grow dark: the shadows lean to the east:
And lights wink out through the windows, one by one.
A clamor of frosty sirens mourns at the night.
Pale slate-grey clouds whirl up from the sunken sun.