The Barren Fig-Tree (John Newton Poems)
The church a garden isIn which believers stand,Like ornamental treesPlanted by God's own hand:His Spirit waters all their roots,And every ...
The church a garden isIn which believers stand,Like ornamental treesPlanted by God's own hand:His Spirit waters all their roots,And every ...
One aweful word which Jesus spoke,Against the tree which bore no fruit;More piercing than the lightning's stroke,Blasted and dried it ...
Sometimes a light surprisesThe Christian while he sings;It is the Lord who risesWith healing in his wings:When comforts are declining,He ...
UPON a pleasant hill, whose young green grassThe freshlier seems since rain has drawn the longParch'd land to sing, a ...
An eagle descends from this sky white with archangelsAnd you sustain meLet them tremble a long while all these lampsPray ...
A YOUNG fig-tree its form lifts highWithin a beauteous garden;And see, a goat is sitting by.As if he were its ...
I sit beneath my fig-tree, while my kinePasture around me drowsily, knee-deepIn lilies, chewing sweetest cud of sleep,While I sing ...
Yet to the wondrous St. Peter's, and yet to the solemn Rotunda, Mingling with heroes and gods, yet to the ...
'Midst Tivoli's luxuriant glades,Bright-foaming falls, and olive shades,Where dwelt, in days departed long,The sons of battle and of song,No tree, ...
Svch time as Tytan with his fiery beames In highest degree, made duskish Leo sweat Field-tilling Swains driue home their ...
On Nineveh's proud towers the sinking sun In cloudless splendor looks; nor, through the earth, Like glory doth behold. In ...
I.—THIS SIDE AN' THAT.The rich man sat in his father's seat—Purple an' linen, an' a'thing fine!The puir man lay at ...
EVEN iron can put forth,Even iron.This is the iron age,But let us take heartSeeing iron break and bud,Seeing rusty iron ...
FIG-TREES, weird fig-treesMade of thick smooth silver,Made of sweet, untarnished silver in the sea-southern air--I say untarnished, but I mean ...
I am coming! I am coming! with my joyous tones of mirth.I am coming! I am coming! to gladden all ...
Praise to God, immortal praise, For the love that crowns our days;Bounteous source of every joy,Let thy praise our tongues ...
A YOUNG fig-tree its form lifts high Within a beauteous garden; And see, a goat is sitting by. As if ...
(To Marcel Schwob in friendship and in admiration) In a dim corner of my room for longer than my fancy ...
1 O TAKE my hand, Walt Whitman! Such gliding wonders! such sights and sounds! Such join'd unended links, each hook'd ...
No more of talk where God or Angel guest With Man, as with his friend, familiar us'd, To sit indulgent, ...
not of silver nor of coral, but of weatherbeaten laurel. Here, he introduced a sea uniform like tapestry; here, a ...
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