Patience poems
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The Irish Emigrants Mother
© Denis Florence MacCarthy
"Oh! come, my mother, come away, across the sea-green water;
Oh! come with me, and come with him, the husband of thy daughter;
Oh! come with us, and come with them, the sister and the brother,
Who, prattling climb thy ag'ed knees, and call thy daughter-mother.
Ode II
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
While wounded men leaped on their feet to hear,
And dying men upraised their eyes to see
How on the conflict's lowering canopy,
Dawned the first rainbow hues of victory!
Wilson
© John Greenleaf Whittier
The lowliest born of all the land,
He wrung from Fate's reluctant hand
The gifts which happier boyhood claims;
And, tasting on a thankless soil
The bitter bread of unpaid toil,
He fed his soul with noble aims.
Conclusion
© Victor Marie Hugo
Il est ! Mais nul cri d'homme ou d'ange, nul effroi,
Nul amour, nulle bouche, humble, tendre ou superbe,
Ne peut balbutier distinctement ce verbe !
Il est ! il est ! il est ! il est éperdument !
The Child-Mother
© George MacDonald
Heavily slumbered noonday bright
Upon the lone field, glory-dight,
A burnished grassy sea:
The child, in gorgeous golden hours,
Through heaven-descended starry flowers,
Went walking on the lea.
The Portrait
© Madison Julius Cawein
In some quaint Nurnberg maler-atelier
Uprummaged. When and where was never clear
When The Hearse Comes Back
© James Whitcomb Riley
A thing 'at's 'bout as tryin' as a healthy man kin meet
Is some poor feller's funeral a-joggin' 'long the street:
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
When I Consider How My Light Is Spent
© John Milton
When I consider how my light is spent
Ere half my days in this dark world and wide,
And that one talent which is death to hide
Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent
The Birch-Tree
© James Russell Lowell
Rippling through thy branches goes the sunshine,
Among thy leaves that palpitate forever;
Ovid in thee a pining Nymph had prisoned,
The soul once of some tremulous inland river,
Quivering to tell her woe, but, ah! dumb, dumb forever!
The Angel In The House. Book I. Canto V.
© Coventry Kersey Dighton Patmore
IV Venus Victrix
Fatal in force, yet gentle in will,
Defeats, from her, are tender pacts,
For, like the kindly lodestone, still
She's drawn herself by what she attracts.
The Destroyer Of A Soul
© Lionel Pigot Johnson
Why come you now? You, whom I cannot cease
With pure and perfect hate to hate? Go, ring
The death-bell with a deep, triumphant toll!
Say you, my friend sits by me still? Ah, peace!
Call you this thing my friend? this nameless thing?
This living body, hiding its dead soul?
From House To House
© Christina Georgina Rossetti
The first was like a dream through summer heat,
The second like a tedious numbing swoon,
While the half-frozen pulses lagged to beat
Beneath a winter moon.
The Aurora On The Clyde
© Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
AH me, how heavily the night comes down,
Heavily, heavily:
Fade the curved shores, the blue hills' serried throng,
The darkening waves we oared in light and song:
The Sympathetic Minister
© Edgar Albert Guest
MY father is a peaceful man,
He tries in every way he can
Buddha And Brahma
© Henry Brooks Adams
Then gently, still in silence, lost in thought,
The Buddha raised the Lotus in his hand,
His eyes bent downward, fixed upon the flower.
No more! A moment so he held it only,
Then his hand sank into its former rest.
The Wonder-Working Magician - Act III
© Denis Florence MacCarthy
DEMON. Why, how is this, that using your free-will
More than my precept meant,
Say for what end, what object, what intent,
Through ignorance or boldness can it be,
You thus come forth the sun's bright face to see?
The Ring And The Book - Chapter III - The Other Half-Rome
© Robert Browning
ANOTHER DAY that finds her living yet,
Little Pompilia, with the patient brow
