Strength poems
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Ode for a Master Mariner Ashore
© Louise Imogen Guiney
THERE in his room, wheneer the moon looks in,
And silvers now a shell, and now a fin,
My Grace Is Sufficient For Thee
© John Newton
Oppressed with unbelief and sin,
Fightings without, and fears within;
While earth and hell, with force combined,
Assault and terrify my mind.
The Happy Man
© Edgar Albert Guest
If you would know a happy man,
Go find the fellow who
Has had a bout with trouble grim
And just come smiling through.
The Wind
© Mathilde Blind
ACROSS the barren moors the wild, wild wind
Went sweeping on, and with his sobs and shrieks
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.
Clerical Oppressors
© John Greenleaf Whittier
JUST God! and these are they
Who minister at thine altar, God of Right!
Men who their hands with prayer and blessing lay
On Israel's Ark of light!
The Wind And The Moon
© George MacDonald
Said the Wind to the Moon, "I will blow you out!
You stare
In the air
As if crying Beware,
Always looking what I am about:
I hate to be watched; I will blow you out!"
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:
Salute To The Trees
© Henry Van Dyke
Many a tree is found in the wood
And every tree for its use is good:
Walter And Jane: Or, The Poor Blacksmith
© Robert Bloomfield
'We brav'd Life's storm together; while that Drone,
'Your poor old Uncle, WALTER, liv'd alone.
'He died the other day: when round his bed
'No tender soothing tear Affection shed--
'Affection! 'twas a plant he never knew;--
'Why should he feast on fruits he never grew?'
Wentworth
© Mary Hannay Foott
Tis a proud thing for Australia, while the funeral-prayers are said,
To remember loving service, frankly rendered by the dead;
How he strove, amid the nations, evermore to raise her head.
How in youth he sang her glory, as it is, and is to be,
Called her Empress,while they held her yet as base-born, over sea,
Owned her Mother,when her children scarce were counted with the free!
This Hymn Was Made By Sir H. Wotton, When He Was An Ambassador At Venice, In The Time of A Great Sic
© Sir Henry Wotton
Eternal Mover, whose diffused Glory,
To shew our groveling Reason what thou art,
Unfolds it self in Clouds of Natures story,
Where Man, thy proudest Creature, acts his part:
Whom yet (alas) I know not why, we call
The Worlds contracted sum, the little all.
Alma; or, The Progress of the Mind. In Three Cantos. - Canto II.
© Matthew Prior
Richard, quoth Matt, these words of thine
Speak something sly and something fine;
But I shall e'en resume my theme,
However thou may'st praise or blame.
Prayer At Sunrise
© James Weldon Johnson
O mighty, powerful, dark-dispelling sun,
Now thou art risen, and thy day begun.
How shrink the shrouding mists before thy face,
As up thou spring'st to thy diurnal race!
Jesus And John Contending For The Cross, By Simeone Da Pesaro; In The Collection Of The Seminary At
© Richard Monckton Milnes
Ah me! I see within
That artless wooden form,
A meaning of exceeding misery,
A dark, dark shadow of oncoming woe.
Malcolm's Katie: A Love Story - Part IV.
© Isabella Valancy Crawford
High grew the snow beneath the low-hung sky,
And all was silent in the Wilderness;
In trance of stillness Nature heard her God
Rebuilding her spent fires, and veil'd her face
While the Great Worker brooded o'er His work.
Charleston
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
Then fold about thy beauteous form
The imperial robe thou wearest,
And front with regal port the storm
Thy foe would dream thou fearest;
If strength, and will, and courage fail
To cope with ruthless numbers,
What I Call Living
© Edgar Albert Guest
The miser thinks he's living when he's hoarding up his gold;
The soldier calls it living when he's doing something bold;
The sailor thinks it living to be tossed upon the sea,
And upon this vital subject no two of us agree.
But I hold to the opinion, as I walk my way along,
That living's made of laughter and good-fellowship and song.
