Poems on the topic: reconciliation

Poems on the topic “reconciliation” on Poets.by.

SadHelena Coleman

The Reconciler

She knew but one desire, one single aim Consumed her days and robbed her nights of rest — To reconcile the two whom she loved best, Who, long estranged, yet of one household came; And while for this she strove, her gentle frame And tender heart were often sore distressed, For all her longing love and pain repressed Seemed but as fuel added to the flame. But on that day of silence when she passed By unseen pathways to the distant spheres, What life had failed to do, death wrought at last, For they who through the long, embittered years Had spoken not, now stood with hands locked fast, And looked into each other's face with tears.
InspiredGeorgia Douglas Johnson

Peace

Peace on a thousand hills and dales, Peace in the hearts of men While kindliness reclaims the soil Where bitterness has been. The night of strife is drifting past, The storm of shell has ceased. Disrupted is the cordon fell, Sweet charity released. Forth from the shadow, swift we come Wrought in the flame together. All men as one beneath the sun In brotherhood forever.
RomanticWilliam Shakespeare

Sonnet 145: Those lips that Love's own hand did make

Those lips that Love's own hand did make, Breathed forth the sound that said 'I hate', To me that languish'd for her sake: But when she saw my woeful state, Straight in her heart did mercy come, Chiding that tongue that ever sweet Was us'd in giving gentle doom; And taught it thus anew to greet; 'I hate' she alter'd with an end, That followed it as gentle day, Doth follow night, who like a fiend From heaven to hell is flown away. 'I hate', from hate away she threw, And sav'd my life, saying 'not you'.
ContemplativeWilliam Shakespeare

Sonnet 120: That you were once unkind befriends me now

That you were once unkind befriends me now, And for that sorrow, which I then did feel, Needs must I under my transgression bow, Unless my nerves were brass or hammer'd steel. For if you were by my unkindness shaken, As I by yours, you've pass'd a hell of time; And I, a tyrant, have no leisure taken To weigh how once I suffer'd in your crime. O! that our night of woe might have remember'd My deepest sense, how hard true sorrow hits, And soon to you, as you to me, then tender'd The humble salve, which wounded bosoms fits! But that your trespass now becomes a fee; Mine ransoms yours, and yours must ransom me.
ContemplativeWilliam Shakespeare

Sonnet 110: Alas! 'tis true, I have gone here and there

Alas! 'tis true, I have gone here and there, And made my self a motley to the view, Gor'd mine own thoughts, sold cheap what is most dear, Made old offences of affections new; Most true it is, that I have look'd on truth Askance and strangely; but, by all above, These blenches gave my heart another youth, And worse essays prov'd thee my best of love. Now all is done, save what shall have no end: Mine appetite I never more will grind On newer proof, to try an older friend, A god in love, to whom I am confin'd. Then give me welcome, next my heaven the best, Even to thy pure and most most loving breast.
CheerfulWilliam Blake

The Little Black Boy

My mother bore me in the southern wild, And I am black, but oh my soul is white! White as an angel is the English child, But I am black, as if bereaved of light. My mother taught me underneath a tree, And, sitting down before the heat of day, She took me on her lap and kissed me, And, pointed to the east, began to say: "Look on the rising sun: there God does live, And gives His light, and gives His heat away, And flowers and trees and beasts and men receive Comfort in morning, joy in the noonday. "And we are put on earth a little space, That we may learn to bear the beams of love And these black bodies and this sunburnt face Is but a cloud, and like a shady grove.
RomanticRobert Burns

264. Song—On a Bank of Flowers

ON a bank of flowers, in a summer day, For summer lightly drest, The youthful, blooming Nelly lay, With love and sleep opprest; When Willie, wand’ring thro’ the wood, Who for her favour oft had sued; He gaz’d, he wish’d He fear’d, he blush’d, And trembled where he stood. Her closèd eyes, like weapons sheath’d, Were seal’d in soft repose; Her lip, still as she fragrant breath’d, It richer dyed the rose; The springing lilies, sweetly prest, Wild-wanton kissed her rival breast; He gaz’d, he wish’d,
InspiredPercy Bysshe Shelley

Cancelled Stanza

Gather, O gather, Foeman and friend in love and peace! Waves sleep together When the blasts that called them to battle, cease. For fangless Power grown tame and mild Is at play with Freedom's fearless child-- The dove and the serpent reconciled!
SadRobert Browning

A Woman's Last Word

Let's contend no more, Love, Strive nor weep: All be as before, Love, --Only sleep! What so wild as words are? I and thou In debate, as birds are, Hawk on bough! See the creature stalking While we speak! Hush and hide the talking, Cheek on cheek. What so false as truth is, False to thee? Where the serpent's tooth is, Shun the tree--
DreamyRobert Louis Stevenson

St. Martin's Summer

AS swallows turning backward When half-way o'er the sea, At one word's trumpet summons They came again to me - The hopes I had forgotten Came back again to me. I know not which to credit, O lady of my heart! Your eyes that bade me linger, Your words that bade us part - I know not which to credit, My reason or my heart. But be my hopes rewarded, Or be they but in vain, I have dreamed a golden vision, I have gathered in the grain -
RomanticMichael Drayton

Sonnet LXI: Since There's No Help

Since there's no help, come, let us kiss and part, Nay, I have done, you get no more of me, And I am glad, yea, glad with all my heart, That thus so cleanly I myself can free. Shake hands for ever, cancel all our vows, And when we meet at any time again Be it not seen in either of our brows That we one jot of former love retain. Now at the last gasp of Love's latest breath, When, his pulse failing, Passion speechless lies, When Faith is kneeling by his bed of death, And Innocence is closing up his eyes, Now, if thou wouldst, when all have giv'n him over, From death to life thou might'st him yet recover.

Describe a feeling — we’ll find a poem

Or try: