You are currently browsing the tag archive for the ‘english poets’ tag.

When you’re up against a trouble,

Meet it squarely, face to face;

Lift your chin and set your shoulders,

Plant your feet and take a brace.

When it’s in vain to try to dodge it,

Do the best that you can do;

You may fail, but you may conquer,

See  it through!

Black may be the clouds about you

And your future may seem grim,

But don’t let your nerve desert you;

Keep yourself in fighting trim.

If the worst is bound to happen,

Spite of all that you can do,

Running from it will not save you,

See it through!

 

Even hope may seem but futile,

When with trouble you’re beset.

But remember you are facing

Just what other men have met.

You may fail, but fall still fighting;

Don’t give up, whate’er you do;

Eyes front, head to the finish.

See it through!

Advertisements

There is a Smile of Love

And there is a Smile of Deceit

And there is a Smile of Smiles

In which these two Smiles meet

 

And there is a Frown of Hate

And there is a Frown of disdain

And there is a Frown of Frowns

Which you strive to forget in vain

 

For it sticks in the Heart deep Core

And it sticks in the deep Back bone

And no Smile that ever was smild

But only one Smile alone

 

That betwixt the Cradle & Grave

It only once Smild can be

But when it once is Smild

Theres an end to all Misery

Today I opened wide my eyes,

And stared with wonder and surprise,

To see beneath November skies

An apple blossom peer;

Upon a branch as bleak as night

It gleamed exultant on my sight,

A fairy beacon burning bright

Of hope and cheer.

 

‘Alas’! said I, poor foolish thing,

Have you mistaken this for Spring?

Behold, the thrush has taken wing,

And Winter’s near.’

Serene it seemed to lift its head:

‘The Winter’s wrath I do not dread,

Because I am,’ it proudly said,

‘A pioneer.

 

‘Some apple blossom must be first,

With beauty’s urgency to burst

Into a world for joy athirst,

And so I dare;

And I shall see what none shall see-

December skies gloom over me,

And mock them with my April glee,

And fearless fare.

 

‘And I shall hear what none shall hear-

The hardy robin piping clear,

The Storm King gallop dark and drear

Across the sky;

And I shall know what none shall know-

The silent kisses of the snow,

The Christmas candles’ silver glow,

Before I die.

 

Then from your frost-gemmed window pane

One morning you will look in vain,

My smile of delicate disdain

No more to see

But though I pass before my time,

And perish in the grale and grime,

Maybe you’ll have a little rhyme

To spare for me.

 

 

 

 

I’ve watched you now for a full half-hour,

Self-poised upon that yellow flower;

And little Butterfly! indeed

I know not if you sleep or feed.

How motionless!—not frozen seas

More motionless and then

What joy awaits you, when the breeze

Hath found you out among the trees,

And calls you forth again!

 

This plot of orchard-ground is ours;

My trees they are, my Sister’s flowers;

Here rest your wings when they are weary;

Here lodge as in sanctuary!

Come often to us, fear no wrong;

Sit near on the bough!

We’ll talk of sunshine and of song

And summer days, when we were young;

Sweet childish days, that were as long

As twenty days are now.

 

Whate’er you dream, with doubt possessed,

Keep, keep it snug within your breast,

And lay you down and take your rest,

And when you wake, to work again,

The wind it blows, the vessel goes,

And where and whither, no one knows.

 

‘Twill all be well: no need of care;

Though how it will, and when, and where,

We cannot see, and can’t declare.

In spite of dreams, in spite of thought,

‘Tis not in vain, and not for nought,,

The wind it blows, the ship it goes,

Though where and whither, no one knows.

The spirit breathes upon the world,

And brings the truth to sight;

Precepts and promises afford

A sanctifying light.

 

A glory gilds the sacred page,

Majestic like the sun;

It gives a light to every age,

It gives, but borrows none.

 

The hand that gave it still supplies

The gracious light and heat;

High truths upon the nations rise,

They rise, but never set.

 

Let everlasting thanks be thine,

For such a bright display,

As makes a world of darkness shine

With beams of heavenly day.

 

 

‘Tis death! and peace, indeed, is here,

And ease from shame, and rest from fear.

There’s nothing can dismarble now

The smoothness of that limpid brow.

But is a calm like this, in truth,

The crowning end of life and youth,

And when this boon rewards the dead,

Are all debts paid, has all been said?

And is the heart of youth so light,

Its step so firm , its eyes so bright,

Because on its hot brow there blows

A wind of promise and repose

From the far grave, to which it goes;

Because it hath the hope to come,

One day, to harbor in the tomb?

Ah no, the bliss youth dreams is one

For daylight, for the cheerful sun,

For feeling nerves and feeling breath–

Youth dreams a bliss on this side death.

It dreams a rest, if not more deep,

More grateful than this marble sleep;

It hears a voice within it tell:

Calm’s not life’s crown, though calm is well.

‘Tis all perhaps which man acquires,

But it’s not what our youth desires.

 

 

 

Just Home and Love! the words are small

Four little letters into each;

And yet you will not find in all

The wide and gracious range of speech

Two more so tenderly complete:

When angels talk in Heaven above,

I’m sure they have no words so sweet

Than Home and Love.

 

Just Home and Love! it’s hard to guess

which of the two were best to gain;

Home without Love is bitterness;

Love without Home is often pain.

No! each alone will seldom do;

Somehow they travel hand and glove:

If you win one you must have two,

Both Home and Love.

 

And if you’ve both, well then I’m sure

You ought to sing the whole day long;

It doesn’t matter if you’re poor

With these to make divine your song.

And so I praisefully  repeat,

When angels talk in Heaven above,

There are no words more simply sweet

Than Home and Love.

If starry space no limit knows

And sun succeeds to sun,

There is no reason to suppose

Our earth the only one.

‘Mid countless constellations cast

A million worlds may be,

With each a God to bless or blast

And steer to destiny.

 

Just think! A million gods or so

To guide each vital stream,

With over all to boss the show

A Deity supreme.

Such magnitude oppress my mind;

From cosmic space it swings;

So ultimately glad to find

Relief in little things.

 

For look! Within my hollow hand,

While round the earth careens,

I hold a single grain of sand

And wonder what it means.

Ah! if I had the eyes to see,

And brain to understand,

I think Life’s mystery might be

Soled in this grain of sand.

 

 

Come to me in my dreams, and then

By day I shall be well again!

For so the night will more than pay

The hopeless longing of the day.

 

Come, as thou cam’st a thousand times,

A messenger from radiant climes,

And smile on thy new world, and be

As kind to others as to me!

 

Or, as thou never cam’st sooth,

Come now, and let me dream it truth,

And part my hair, and kiss my brow,

And say, my love why sufferest thou?

 

Come to me in my dreams, and then

By day I shall be well again!

For so the night will more than pay

The hopeless longing of the day.