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Famous Short Jesus Poems

Famous Short Jesus Poems. Short Jesus Poetry by Famous Poets. A collection of the all-time best Jesus short poems

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Jesus | Short Famous Poems and Poets

by Emily Dickinson

Jesus! thy Crucifix

 Jesus! thy Crucifix
Enable thee to guess
The smaller size!

Jesus! thy second face
Mind thee in Paradise
Of ours!

by Emily Dickinson

So well that I can live without

 So well that I can live without --
I love thee -- then How well is that?
As well as Jesus?
Prove it me
That He -- loved Men --
As I -- love thee --

by Omar Khayyam

Now the New Year

Now the New Year reviving old Desires,
The thoughtful Soul to Solitude retires,
Where the White Hand of Moses on the Bough
Puts out, and Jesus from the Ground suspires.

by Emily Dickinson

They have not chosen me he said

 "They have not chosen me," he said,
"But I have chosen them!"
Brave -- Broken hearted statement --
Uttered in Bethlehem!

I could not have told it,
But since Jesus dared --
Sovereign! Know a Daisy
They dishonor shared!

by Emily Dickinson

No ladder needs the bird but skies

 No ladder needs the bird but skies
To situate its wings,
Nor any leader's grim baton
Arraigns it as it sings.
The implements of bliss are few -- As Jesus says of Him, "Come unto me" the moiety That wafts the cherubim.

by Robert Burns

475. Epigram on a Country Laird (Cardoness)

 BLESS Jesus Christ, O Cardonessp,
 With grateful, lifted eyes,
Who taught that not the soul alone,
 But body too shall rise;
For had He said “the soul alone
 From death I will deliver,”
Alas, alas! O Cardoness,
 Then hadst thou lain for ever.

by Omar Khayyam

It is the effect of thy ignorance which makes thee fear

It is the effect of thy ignorance which makes thee fear
death and abhor annihilation, for it is evident that from
this annihilation shoots up a branch of immortality.
Since my soul has been revived by the breath of Jesus,
eternal death has fled far from me.

by Emily Dickinson

At least -- to pray -- is left -- is left --

 At least -- to pray -- is left -- is left --
Oh Jesus -- in the Air --
I know not which thy chamber is --
I'm knocking -- everywhere --

Thou settest Earthquake in the South --
And Maelstrom, in the Sea --
Say, Jesus Christ of Nazareth --
Hast thou no Arm for Me?

by Carl Sandburg

Loin Cloth

 BODY of Jesus taken down from the cross
Carved in ivory by a lover of Christ,
It is a child’s handful you are here,
The breadth of a man’s finger,
And this ivory loin cloth
Speaks an interspersal in the day’s work,
The carver’s prayer and whim
And Christ-love.

by Sylvia Plath

A Better Resurrection

 I have no wit, I have no words, no tears;
My heart within me like a stone
Is numbed too much for hopes or fears;
Look right, look left, I dwell alone;
A lift mine eyes, but dimmed with grief
No everlasting hills I see;
My life is like the falling leaf;
O Jesus, quicken me.

by Emily Dickinson

He forgot -- and I -- remembered

 He forgot -- and I -- remembered --
'Twas an everyday affair --
Long ago as Christ and Peter --
"Warmed them" at the "Temple fire.
" "Thou wert with him" -- quoth "the Damsel"? "No" -- said Peter, 'twasn't me -- Jesus merely "looked" at Peter -- Could I do aught else -- to Thee?

by Carl Sandburg


 THE WASHERWOMAN is a member of the Salvation Army.
And over the tub of suds rubbing underwear clean She sings that Jesus will wash her sins away And the red wrongs she has done God and man Shall be white as driven snow.
Rubbing underwear she sings of the Last Great Washday.

by Omar Khayyam

This is the moment when the verdure begins to ornament

This is the moment when the verdure begins to ornament
the world, when, like the hand of Moses, the buds begin
to show themselves upon the branches; when, revivified,
as if by the breath of Jesus, the plants spring forth from
the earth; when finally the clouds begin to ope their
eyes and weep.

by William Blake

To The Accuser Who is The God of This World

 Truly My Satan thou art but a Dunce
And dost not know the Garment from the Man
Every Harlot was a Virgin once
Nor canst thou ever change Kate into Nan

Tho thou art Worship'd by the Names Divine 
Of Jesus & Jehovah thou art still
The Son of Morn in weary Nights decline
The lost Travellers Dream under the Hill

by Emily Dickinson

To her derided Home

 To her derided Home
A Weed of Summer came --
She did not know her station low
Nor Ignominy's Name --
Bestowed a summer long
Upon a frameless flower --
Then swept as lightly from disdain
As Lady from her Bower --

Of Bliss the Codes are few --
As Jesus cites of Him --
"Come unto me" the moiety
That wafts the Seraphim --

by Emily Dickinson

Twas Love -- not me

 'Twas Love -- not me --
Oh punish -- pray --
The Real one died for Thee --
Just Him -- not me --

Such Guilt -- to love Thee -- most!
Doom it beyond the Rest --
Forgive it -- last --
'Twas base as Jesus -- most!

Let Justice not mistake --
We Two -- looked so alike --
Which was the Guilty Sake --
'Twas Love's -- Now Strike!

by Emily Dickinson

He preached upon Breadth till it argued him narrow --

 He preached upon "Breadth" till it argued him narrow --
The Broad are too broad to define
And of "Truth" until it proclaimed him a Liar --
The Truth never flaunted a Sign --

Simplicity fled from his counterfeit presence
As Gold the Pyrites would shun --
What confusion would cover the innocent Jesus
To meet so enabled a Man!

by Alexander Pope

Two Or Three: A Recipe To Make A Cuckold

 Two or three visits, and two or three bows,
Two or three civil things, two or three vows,
Two or three kisses, with two or three sighs,
Two or three Jesus's - and let me dies-
Two or three squeezes, and two or three towses,
With two or three thousand pound lost at their houses,
Can never fail cuckolding two or three spouses.

by Siegfried Sassoon

A Childs Prayer

 For Morn, my dome of blue, 
For Meadows, green and gay, 
And Birds who love the twilight of the leaves, 
Let Jesus keep me joyful when I pray.
For the big Bees that hum And hide in bells of flowers; For the winding roads that come To Evening’s holy door, May Jesus bring me grateful to his arms, And guard my innocence for evermore.

by Emily Dickinson

Just so -- Jesus -- raps

 Just so -- Jesus -- raps --
He -- doesn't weary --
Last -- at the Knocker --
And first -- at the Bell.
Then -- on divinest tiptoe -- standing -- Might He but spy the lady's soul -- When He -- retires -- Chilled -- or weary -- It will be ample time for -- me -- Patient -- upon the steps -- until then -- Hears! I am knocking -- low at thee.

by Emily Dickinson

Unto Me? I do not know you --

 "Unto Me?" I do not know you --
Where may be your House?

"I am Jesus -- Late of Judea --
Now -- of Paradise" --

Wagons -- have you -- to convey me?
This is far from Thence --

"Arms of Mine -- sufficient Phaeton --
Trust Omnipotence" --

I am spotted -- "I am Pardon" --
I am small -- "The Least
Is esteemed in Heaven the Chiefest --
Occupy my House" --

by William Blake

The Birds

 When Jesus Christ was four years old
The angels brought Him toys of gold,
Which no man ever had bought or sold.
And yet with these He would not play.
He made Him small fowl out of clay, And blessed them till they flew away: Tu creasti Domine Jesus Christ, Thou child so wise, Bless mine hands and fill mine eyes, And bring my soul to Paradise.

by Emily Dickinson

Dying! Dying in the night!

 Dying! Dying in the night!
Won't somebody bring the light
So I can see which way to go
Into the everlasting snow?

And "Jesus"! Where is Jesus gone?
They said that Jesus -- always came --
Perhaps he doesn't know the House --
This way, Jesus, Let him pass!

Somebody run to the great gate
And see if Dollie's coming! Wait!
I hear her feet upon the stair!
Death won't hurt -- now Dollie's here!

by Emily Dickinson

He strained my faith

 He strained my faith --
Did he find it supple?
Shook my strong trust --
Did it then -- yield?

Hurled my belief --
But -- did he shatter -- it?
Racked -- with suspense --
Not a nerve failed!

Wrung me -- with Anguish --
But I never doubted him --
'Tho' for what wrong
He did never say --

Stabbed -- while I sued
His sweet forgiveness --
Jesus -- it's your little "John"!
Don't you know -- me?

by Emily Dickinson

Proud of my broken heart since thou didst break it

 Proud of my broken heart, since thou didst break it,
Proud of the pain I did not feel till thee,

Proud of my night, since thou with moons dost slake it,
Not to partake thy passion, my humility.
Thou can'st not boast, like Jesus, drunken without companion Was the strong cup of anguish brewed for the Nazarene Thou can'st not pierce tradition with the peerless puncture, See! I usurped thy crucifix to honor mine!