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Best Famous Uplifting Poems

Here is a collection of the all-time best famous Uplifting poems. This is a select list of the best famous Uplifting poetry. Reading, writing, and enjoying famous Uplifting poetry (as well as classical and contemporary poems) is a great past time. These top poems are the best examples of uplifting poems.

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by Lucy Maud Montgomery | |

In the Days of the Golden Rod

 Across the meadow in brooding shadow
I walk to drink of the autumn's wine­
The charm of story, the artist's glory,
To-day on these silvering hills is mine;
On height, in hollow, where'er I follow,
By mellow hillside and searing sod,
Its plumes uplifting, in light winds drifting,
I see the glimmer of golden-rod.
In this latest comer the vanished summer Has left its sunshine the world to cheer, And bids us remember in late September What beauty mates with the passing year.
The days that are fleetest are still the sweetest, And life is near to the heart of God, And the peace of heaven to earth is given In this wonderful time of the golden-rod.


by Lucy Maud Montgomery | |

The Gulls

 I 

Soft is the sky in the mist-kirtled east,
Light is abroad on the sea,
All of the heaven with silver is fleeced, 
Holding the sunrise in fee.
Lo! with a flash and uplifting of wings Down where the long ripples break, Cometh a bevy of glad-hearted things, 'Tis morn, for the gulls are awake.
II Slumberous calm on the ocean and shore Comes with the turn of the tide; Never a strong-sweeping pinion may soar, Where the tame fishing-boats ride! Far and beyond in blue deserts of sea Where the wild winds are at play, There may the spirits of sea-birds be free­ 'Tis noon, for the gulls are away.
III Over the rim of the sunset is blown Sea-dusk of purple and gold, Speed now the wanderers back to their own, Wings the most tireless must fold.
Homeward together at twilight they flock, Sated with joys of the deep Drowsily huddled on headland and rock­ 'Tis night, for the gulls are asleep.


by Alan Seeger | |

Sonnet XVI: Who Shall Invoke Her

 Who shall invoke her, who shall be her priest,
With single rites the common debt to pay?
On some green headland fronting to the East
Our fairest boy shall kneel at break of day.
Naked, uplifting in a laden tray New milk and honey and sweet-tinctured wine, Not without twigs of clustering apple-spray To wreath a garland for Our Lady's shrine.
The morning planet poised above the sea Shall drop sweet influence through her drowsing lid; Dew-drenched, his delicate virginity Shall scarce disturb the flowers he kneels amid, That, waked so lightly, shall lift up their eyes, Cushion his knees, and nod between his thighs.