Truth poems

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My truth of life

© KateZ

Never is so bad to be worst but everything bad is good for sth.

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To a Gentleman and Lady on the Death of the Lady's Brother and Sister

© Phillis Wheatley

But, Madam, let your grief be laid aside,
And let the fountain of your tears be dry'd,
In vain they flow to wet the dusty plain,
Your sighs are wafted to the skies in vain,
Your pains they witness, but they can no more,
While Death reigns tyrant o'er this mortal shore.

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Verses on Sir Joshua Reynold's Painted Window at New College, Oxford

© Thomas Warton

Reynolds, 'tis thine, from the broad window's height,
To add new lustre to religious light:
Not of its pomp to strip this ancient shrine,
But bid that pomp with purer radiance shine:
With arts unknown before, to reconcile
The willing Graces to the Gothic pile.

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The Emigrants: Book II

© Charlotte Turner Smith

Scene, on an Eminence on one of those Downs, which afford to the South a view of the Sea; to the North of the Weald of Sussex. Time, an Afternoon in April, 1793.


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The Emigrants: Book I

© Charlotte Turner Smith

Scene, on the Cliffs to the Eastward of the Town of

Brighthelmstone in Sussex. Time, a Morning in November, 1792.

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Sonnet XLIII: The Unhappy Exile

© Charlotte Turner Smith

The unhappy exile, whom his fates confine

To the bleak coast of some unfriendly isle,

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A Refusal To Mourn The Death, By Fire, Of A Child In London

© Dylan Thomas

Never until the mankind making
Bird beast and flower
Fathering and all humbling darkness
Tells with silence the last light breaking
And the still hour
Is come of the sea tumbling in harness

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Of Old Sat Freedom

© Alfred Tennyson

Of old sat Freedom on the heights,
The thunders breaking at her feet:
Above her shook the starry lights:
She heard the torrents meet.

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In Memoriam A. H. H.: The Prelude

© Alfred Tennyson

Thou seemest human and divine,
The highest, holiest manhood, thou.
Our wills are ours, we know not how,
Our wills are ours, to make them thine.

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In Memoriam A. H. H.: 131. O living will that shalt endure

© Alfred Tennyson

O true and tried, so well and long,
Demand not thou a marriage lay;
In that it is thy marriage day
Is music more than any song.

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In Memoriam A. H. H.: 118. Contemplate all this work of Tim

© Alfred Tennyson

Who throve and branch'd from clime to clime,
The herald of a higher race,
And of himself in higher place,
If so he type this work of time

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Alfred Lord Tennyson - The Coming Of Arthur

© Alfred Tennyson

Leodogran, the King of Cameliard,
Had one fair daughter, and none other child;
And she was the fairest of all flesh on earth,
Guinevere, and in her his one delight.

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So What

© Ruth Stone

For me the great truths are laced with hysteria.
How many Einsteins can we tolerate?
I leap into the uncertainty principle.
After so many smears, you want to wash it off with a laugh.
Ha ha, you say. So what if it's a meltdown?
Last lines to poems I will write immediately.

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To Any Reader

© Robert Louis Stevenson

As from the house your mother sees

You playing round the garden trees,

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A Hymn Of Heavenly Beauty

© Edmund Spenser

Rapt with the rage of mine own ravish'd thought,

Through contemplation of those goodly sights,

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Astrophel and Stella

© Sir Philip Sidney


Doubt you to whom my Muse these notes entendeth,
Which now my breast, surcharg'd, to musick lendeth!
To you, to you, all song of praise is due,
Only in you my song begins and endeth.

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The Recollection

© Percy Bysshe Shelley

NOW the last day of many days,


All beautiful and bright as thou,

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And 2Morrow

© Tupac Shakur

Today is filled with anger


fueled with hidden hate

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Stepping Backward

© Adrienne Rich

Good-by to you whom I shall see tomorrow,

Next year and when I'm fifty; still good-by.

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Paula Becker to Clara Westhoff

© Adrienne Rich

The autumn feels slowed down,

summer still holds on here, even the light