19. A Prayer in the Prospect of Death (Robert Burns Poems)
O THOU unknown, Almighty Cause Of all my hope and fear! In whose dread presence, ere an hour, Perhaps I ...
O THOU unknown, Almighty Cause Of all my hope and fear! In whose dread presence, ere an hour, Perhaps I ...
O MY Luve's like a red, red rose, That's newly sprung in June: O my Luve's like the melodie, That's ...
WEE, sleekit, cow'rin, tim'rous beastie, O, what a panic's in thy breastie! Thou need na start awa sae hasty, Wi' ...
O my Luve's like a red, red rose That's newly sprung in June; O my Luve's like the melodie That's ...
On Turning her up in her Nest with the Plough Wee, sleekit, cow'rin', tim'rous beastie, O what a panic's in ...
God, God! With a child's voice I cry, Weak, sad, confidingly- God, God! Thou knowest, eyelids, raised not always up ...
I see thine image through my tears to-night, And yet to-day I saw thee smiling. How Refer the cause?-Beloved, is ...
Oh, yes! they love through all this world of ours! I will not gainsay love, called love forsooth. I have ...
SPEAK low to me, my Saviour, low and sweet From out the hallelujahs, sweet and low Lest I should fear ...
I think of thee!-my thoughts do twine and bud About thee, as wild vines, about a tree, Put out broad ...
The face of all the world is changed, I think, Since first I heard the footsteps of thy soul Move ...
XLI I thank all who have loved me in their hearts, With thanks and love from mine. Deep thanks to ...
If it is true, what the Prophets write, That the heathen gods are all stocks and stones, Shall we, for ...
The shadowy Daughter of Urthona stood before red Orc, When fourteen suns had faintly journey'd o'er his dark abode: His ...
Truly My Satan thou art but a Dunce And dost not know the Garment from the Man Every Harlot was ...
The Argument. Rintrah roars & shakes his fires in the burdend air; Hungry clouds swag on the deep Once meek, ...
Why art thou silent & invisible Father of jealousy Why dost thou hide thyself in clouds From every searching Eye ...
Little Fly Thy summers play, My thoughtless hand Has brush'd away. Am not I A fly like thee? Or art ...
O Rose thou art sick. The invisible worm. That flies in the night In the howling storm: Has found out ...
Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day ? Thou art more lovely and more temperate: Rough winds do shake ...
Bury thy sorrows, and they shall rise As souls to the immortal skies, And there look down like mothers' eyes. ...
© 2020 Inspirational Stories