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Loyalty Poems

Table of Contents

  1. Friends by Bernhardt Paul Holst
  2. The Wife by John Charles McNeill
  3. One and Two by Will Carleton
  4. Woman's Love by Frances Anne Kemble

  1. Friends

    by Bernhart Paul Holst

    Should some one speak unkindly of your friend,
    With earnest mien, you must his worth defend;
    Though all the world should at your true friend chide,
    Hold to his hand and stand close by his side—
    For this we know: a true and trusty heart
    Of happy life is an essential part.

    Heaven will in its gentle kindness give
    True friends to those who truly act and live,
    But those that fail trustworthy friends to prize
    At length are severed from these holy ties—
    And finally, o'erwhelmed by doubt and fear,
    Are borne by strangers on their rustic bier.

    Should storms betide and all your fortune rend,
    You still are rich if you possess a friend,
    But if you win vast fortune and renown,
    Or even wear a sceptered, kingly crown,
    And have no friends, no trusty friends in need,
    You still are poor, ah! very poor, indeed!

  2. The Wife

    by John Charles McNeill

    They locked him in a prison cell,
    Murky and mean.
    She kissed him there a wife's farewell
    The bars between.
    And when she turned to go, the crowd,
    Thinking to see her shamed and bowed,
    Saw her pass out as calm and proud
    As any queen.

    She passed a kinsman on the street,
    To whose sad eyes
    She made reply with smile as sweet
    As April skies.
    To one who loved her once and knew
    The sorrow of her life, she threw
    A gay word, ere his tale was due
    Of sympathies.

    She met a playmate, whose red rose
    Had never a thorn,
    Whom fortune guided when she chose
    Her marriage morn,
    And, smiling, looked her in the eye;
    But, seeing the tears of sympathy,
    Her smile died, and she passed on by
    In quiet scorn.

    They could not know how, when by night
    The city slept,
    A sleepless woman, still and white,
    The watches kept;
    How her wife-loyal heart had borne
    The keen pain of a flowerless thorn,
    How hot the tears that smiles and scorn
    Had held unwept.

  3. One and Two

    by Will Carleton

    I.
    If you to me be cold,
    Or I be false to you,
    The world will go on, I think,
    Just as it used to do;
    The clouds will flirt with the moon,
    The sun will kiss the sea,
    The wind to the trees will whisper,
    And laugh at you and me;
    But the sun will not shine so bright,
    The clouds will not seem so white,
    To one, as they will to two;
    So I think you had better be kind,
    And I had best be true,
    And let the old love go on,
    Just as it used to do.

    II.
    If the whole of a page be read,
    If a book be finished through,
    Still the world may read on, I think,
    Just as it used to do;
    For other lovers will con
    The pages that we have passed,
    And the treacherous gold of the binding
    Will glitter unto the last.
    But lids have a lonely look,
    And one may not read the book—
    It opens only to two;
    So I think you had better be kind,
    And I had best be true,
    And let the reading go on,
    Just as it used to do.

    III.
    If we who have sailed together
    Flit out of each other's view,
    The world will sail on, I think,
    Just as it used to do;
    And we may reckon by stars
    That flash from different skies,
    And another of love's pirates
    May capture my lost prize;
    But ships long time together
    Can better the tempest weather
    Than any other two;
    So I think you had better be kind,
    And I had best be true,
    That we together may sail,
    Just as we used to do.

  4. Woman's Love

    by Frances Anne Kemble

    A maiden meek, with solemn, steadfast eyes,
    Full of eternal constancy and faith,
    And smiling lips, through whose soft portal sighs
    Truth's holy voice, with every balmy breath,
    So journeys she along life's crowded way,
    Keeping her soul's sweet counsel from all sight;
    Nor pomp, nor vanity, lead her astray,
    Nor aught that men call dazzling, fair, or bright:
    For pity, sometimes, doth she pause, and stay
    Those whom she meeteth mourning, for her heart
    Knows well in suffering how to bear its part.
    Patiently lives she through each dreary day,
    Looking with little hope unto the morrow;
    And still she walketh hand in hand with sorrow.

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