Thankful poems
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A Picture
© John Henry Newman
"The maiden is not dead, but sleepeth."
She is not gone;still in our sight
That dearest maid shall live,
In form as true, in tints as bright,
As youth and health could give.
The Third Monarchy, being the Grecian, beginning under Alexander the Great in the 112. Olympiad.
© Anne Bradstreet
Great Alexander was wise Philips son,
He to Amyntas, Kings of Macedon;
The Waggoner - Canto First
© William Wordsworth
'TIS spent--this burning day of June!
Soft darkness o'er its latest gleams is stealing;
The buzzing dor-hawk, round and round, is wheeling,--
That solitary bird
David
© Thomas Parnell
When e'er his flocks the lovely shepherd drove
To neighb'ring waters, to the neighb'ring grove;
To Jordan's flood refresh'd by cooling wind,
Or Cedron's brook to mossy banks confin'd,
In easy notes and guise of lowly swain,
'Twas thus he charm'd and taught the listning train.
The Ruined Cottage
© Letitia Elizabeth Landon
None will dwell in that cottage; for, they say
Oppression reft it from an honest man,
Ultimum
© Francis Thompson
Now in these last spent drops, slow, slower shed,
Love dies, Love dies, Love dies--ah, Love is dead!
The Children Of The Lord's Supper. (From The Swedish Of Bishop Tegner)
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Closed was the Teacher's task, and with heaven in their hearts and their faces,
Up rose the children all, and each bowed him, weeping full sorely,
Downward to kiss that reverend hand, but all of them pressed he
Moved to his bosom, and laid, with a prayer, his hands full of blessings,
Now on the holy breast, and now on the innocent tresses.
Commination
© John Keble
The prayers are o'er: why slumberest thou so long,
Thou voice of sacred song?
In Thankful Remembrance for My Dear Husband's Safe Arrival
© Anne Bradstreet
What shall I render to Thy name
Or how Thy praises speak?
My thanks how shall I testify?
O Lord, Thou know'st I'm weak.
Richard And Kate: Or, Fair-Day
© Robert Bloomfield
'Come, Goody, stop your humdrum wheel,
Sweep up your orts, and get your Hat;
Old joys reviv'd once more I feel,
'Tis Fair-day;--ay, _and more than that._
The Moon In Silver Glory Shone
© John Newton
The moon in silver glory shone,
And not a cloud in sight;
When suddenly a shade begun
To intercept her light.
Sonnet 95: Yet Sighs, dear Sighs
© Sir Philip Sidney
Yet Sighs, dear Sighs, indeed true friends you are,
That do not leave your least friend at the worst,
But as you with my breast I oft have nurs'd,
So grateful now you wait upon my care.
The Four Bridges
© Jean Ingelow
I love this gray old church, the low, long nave,
The ivied chancel and the slender spire;
No less its shadow on each heaving grave,
With growing osier bound, or living brier;
I love those yew-tree trunks, where stand arrayed
So many deep-cut names of youth and maid.
Maiden Name
© Philip Larkin
Marrying left yor maiden name disused.
Its five light sounds no longer mean your face,
Your voice, and all your variants of grace;
For since you were so thankfully confused
But One Loaf
© John Newton
When the disciples crossed the lake
With but one loaf on board;
How strangely did their hearts mistake
The caution of their Lord.
Untitled 01
© Johann Christoph Friedrich Von Schiller
Tell me all that thou knowest, and I will thankfully hear it!
But wouldst thou give me thyself,-let me, my friend, be excused!
Apology
© Joyce Kilmer
(For Eleanor Rogers Cox)For blows on the fort of evil
That never shows a breach,
For terrible life-long races
To a goal no foot can reach,
On Myselfe
© Anne Kingsmill Finch
Good Heav'n, I thank thee, since it was design'd
I shou'd be fram'd, but of the weaker kinde,
That yet, my Soul, is rescu'd from the Love
Of all those Trifles, which their Passions move.
The Prisoner of Chillon
© Lord Byron
I
My hair is gray, but not with years,
Nor grew it white
In a single night,
