Thankful poems
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The Christening
© John Jay Chapman
THE evening wore on with the Judge in the chair
While song after song sought the rafter;
We crowned him with holly to match his white hair
And redden the bloom of our laughter:
Admetus: To my friend, Ralph Waldo Emerson
© Emma Lazarus
He who could beard the lion in his lair,
To bind him for a girl, and tame the boar,
Sweet Is The Solace Of Thy Love
© Anna Laetitia Waring
Sweet is the solace of Thy love,
My Heavenly Friend, to me,
While through the hidden way of faith
I journey home with Thee,
Learning by quiet thankfulness
As a dear child to be.
The Boys' And Girls' Thanksgiving of 1892
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
Never since the race was started,
Had a boy in any clime,
Cause to be so thankful-hearted,
As the boys of present time.
Song at the Feast of Brougham Castle
© William Wordsworth
Alas! the impassioned minstrel did not know
How, by Heaven's grace, this Clifford's heart was framed:
How he, long forced in humble walks to go,
Was softened into feeling, soothed, and tamed.
An Imperfect Revolution
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
They crowded weeping from the teacher's house,
Crying aloud their fear at what he taught,
Alfred. Book II.
© Henry James Pye
He ceasedbut still the accents of his tongue
Persuasive, on the attentive hearers hung:
The monarch and his warlike thanes around
Still listening sat, in silent wonder bound.
Prejudice
© Jane Taylor
It is not worth our while, but if it were,
We all could undertake to laugh at her ;
Since vulgar prejudice, the lowest kind,
Of course, has full possession of her mind ;
Here, therefore, let us leave her, and inquire
Wherein it differs as it rises higher.
The Contented Man
© Edgar Albert Guest
I'VE had a heap of fun and I've had a heap of sorrow,
I've had a heap of pleasure and I've had a heap of pain,
Wednesday Before Easter
© John Keble
O Lord my God, do thou Thy holy will -
I will lie still -
I will not stir, lest I forsake Thine arm,
And break the charm
Which lulls me, clinging to my Father's breast,
In perfect rest.
by William Wordsworth">"Call Not The Royal Swede Unfortunate"
© William Wordsworth
CALL not the royal Swede unfortunate,
Who never did to Fortune bend the knee;
Sonnet. "Like one who walketh in a plenteous land"
© Frances Anne Kemble
Like one who walketh in a plenteous land,
By flowing waters, under shady trees,
The Mary (A Sea-Side Sketch)
© Thomas Hood
Lov'st thou not, Alice, with the early tide
To see the hardy Fisher hoist his mast,
And stretch his sail towards the ocean wide,
Like God's own beadsman going forth to cast
Beauty And The Beast
© Charles Lamb
"My Lord, I swear upon my knees,
"I did not mean to harm your trees;
"But a lov'd Daughter, fair as spring,
"Intreated me a Rose to bring;
"O didst thou know, my lord, the Maid!"-
The Banks Of Wye - Book II
© Robert Bloomfield
Return, my Llewellyn, the glory
That heroes may gain o'er the sea,
Though nations may feel
Their invincible steel,
By falsehood is tarnish'd in story;
Why tarry, Llewellyn, from me?
On fidelity
© Ovid
I don't ask you to be faithful - you're beautiful, after all -
but just that I be spared the pain of knowing.
Ode
© William Wordsworth
I
IMAGINATION--ne'er before content,
But aye ascending, restless in her pride
From all that martial feats could yield
Sunday After Ascension
© John Keble
The Earth that in her genial breast
Makes for the down a kindly nest,
Where wafted by the warm south-west
It floats at pleasure,
Yields, thankful, of her very best,
To nurse her treasure:
An Attempt To Remember The "Grandmother's Apology"
© Horace Smith
And Willie, my eldest born, is gone, you say, little Anne,
Ruddy and white, and strong on his legs, he looks like a man;
He was only fourscore years, quite young, when he died;
I ought to have gone before, but must wait for time and tide.
