TUMULT and turmoil, trouble and toil, Yet peace withal in a painful heart; Never a grudge and never a broil, And ever the better part. O my King and my heart's own choice, Stretch Thy Hand to Thy fluttering dove; Teach me, call to me with Thy Voice, Wrap me up in Thy Love. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONGS OUT OF SORROW: REFUGE by SARA TEASDALE TO A POET, WHO WOULD HAVE ME PRAISE CERTAIN BAD POETS, IMITATORS ... by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS SONNETS FROM THE PORTUGUESE: 20 by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING TO MY DEAR FRIEND, MR. CONGREVE, ON HIS COMEDY, 'THE DOUBLE-DEALER' by JOHN DRYDEN THE SCHRECKHORN by THOMAS HARDY HE FELL AMONG THIEVES by HENRY JOHN NEWBOLT THE PILLAR OF THE CLOUD by JOHN HENRY NEWMAN |