Poems - Michael Goodnight - Editor

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Warbled out these metres meet:"Love seeketh only Self to please,To bind another to its delight,Joys in another's loss of ease,And builds a hell in heaven's despite."HOLY THURSDAYIs this a holy thing to seeIn a rich and fruitful land, --Babes reduced to misery,Fed with cold and usurous hand?Is that trembling cry a song?Can it be a song of joy?And so many children poor?It is a land of poverty!And their son does never shine,And their fields are bleak and bare,And their ways are filled with thorns:
It is eternal winter there.For where'er the sun does shine,And where'er the rain does fall,Babes should never hunger there,Nor poverty the mind appall.THE LITTLE GIRL LOSTIn futurityI prophetic seeThat the earth from sleep(Grave the sentence deep)Shall arise, and seekfor her Maker meek;And the desert wildBecome a garden mild.In the southern clime,Where the summer's prime
Page 3 and 4: For they know when their Shepherd i
Page 5 and 6: Gave thee clothing of delight,Softe
Page 7 and 8: Thus did my mother say, and kissed
Page 9 and 10: And by came an angel, who had a bri
Page 11 and 12: And the dimpling stream runs laughi
Page 13 and 14: Thy Maker lay, and wept for me:Wept
Page 15 and 16: Grey-headed beadles walked before,
Page 17 and 18: Seeking to drive their thirst away,
Page 19 and 20: Merry voice,Infant noise;Merrily, m
Page 21 and 22: Pretty joy!Sweet joy, but two days
Page 24 and 25: He doth give his joy to all:He beco
Page 26 and 27: EARTH'S ANSWEREarth raised up her h
Page 30 and 31: Never fades away,Lovely Lyca lay.Se
Page 32 and 33: From his eyes of flame,Ruby tears t
Page 34 and 35: Smelling to his prey;But their fear
Page 36 and 37: They think they have done me no inj
Page 38 and 39: Till some blind handShall brush my
Page 40 and 41: Burnt the fire of thine eyes?On wha
Page 42 and 43: Where the Youth pined away with des
Page 44 and 45: But the Alehouse is healthy, and pl
Page 46 and 47: Pity would be no moreIf we did not
Page 48 and 49: I was angry with my friend:I told m
Page 50 and 51: The weeping parents wept in vain:Th
Page 52 and 53: All her tender limbs with terror sh
Page 54 and 55: When the blasts of winter appear?TO
Page 56 and 57: And Jealousy a human face;Terror th
Page 58 and 59: O life of this our spring! why fade
Page 60 and 61: II.O little Cloud the virgin said,
Page 62 and 63: Art thou a Worm? image of weakness,
Page 64: She stood in silence, listning to t

Poems - Michael Goodnight - Editor

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