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Best Famous Mary Elizabeth Coleridge Poems

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

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Written by Mary Elizabeth Coleridge | Create an image from this poem

The Other Side of a Mirror

 I sat before my glass one day, 
And conjured up a vision bare, 
Unlike the aspects glad and gay, 
That erst were found reflected there - 
The vision of a woman, wild 
With more than womanly despair.
Her hair stood back on either side A face bereft of loveliness.
It had no envy now to hide What once no man on earth could guess.
It formed the thorny aureole Of hard, unsanctified distress.
Her lips were open - not a sound Came though the parted lines of red, Whate'er it was, the hideous wound In silence and secret bled.
No sigh relieved her speechless woe, She had no voice to speak her dread.
And in her lurid eyes there shone The dying flame of life's desire, Made mad because its hope was gone, And kindled at the leaping fire Of jealousy and fierce revenge, And strength that could not change nor tire.
Shade of a shadow in the glass, O set the crystal surface free! Pass - as the fairer visions pass - Nor ever more return, to be The ghost of a distracted hour, That heard me whisper: - 'I am she!'
Written by Mary Elizabeth Coleridge | Create an image from this poem

Good Friday in my Heart

 GOOD FRIDAY in my heart! Fear and affright! 
My thoughts are the Disciples when they fled, 
My words the words that priest and soldier said, 
My deed the spear to desecrate the dead.
And day, Thy death therein, is changed to night.
Then Easter in my heart sends up the sun.
My thoughts are Mary, when she turned to see.
My words are Peter, answering, ‘Lov’st thou Me?’ My deeds are all Thine own drawn close to Thee, And night and day, since Thou dost rise, are one.
Written by Mary Elizabeth Coleridge | Create an image from this poem

Come Home!

 When wintry winds are no more heard, 
And joy's in every bosom, 
When summer sings in every bird, 
And shines in every blossom, 
When happy twilight hours are long, 
Come home, my love, and think no wrong! 

When berries gleam above the stream 
And half the fields are yellow, 
Come back to me, my joyous dream, 
The world hath not thy fellow! 
And I will make thee Queen among 
The Queens of summer and of song.
Written by Mary Elizabeth Coleridge | Create an image from this poem

After St. Augustine

 Sunshine let it be or frost, 
Storm or calm, as Thou shalt choose; 
Though Thine every gift were lost, 
Thee Thyself we could not lose.
Written by Mary Elizabeth Coleridge | Create an image from this poem

Our Lady

 MOTHER of God! no lady thou:
Common woman of common earth
Our Lady ladies call thee now,
But Christ was never of gentle birth;
A common man of the common earth.
For God’s ways are not as our ways: The noblest lady in the land Would have given up half her days, Would have cut off her right hand, To bear the child that was God of the land.
Never a lady did He choose, Only a maid of low degree, So humble she might not refuse The carpenter of Galilee: A daughter of the people, she.
Out she sang the song of her heart.
Never a lady so had sung.
She knew no letters, had no art; To all mankind, in woman’s tongue, Hath Israelitish Mary sung.
And still for men to come she sings, Nor shall her singing pass away.
‘He hath fillàd the hungry with good things’— O listen, lords and ladies gay!— ‘And the rich He hath sent empty away.
Written by Mary Elizabeth Coleridge | Create an image from this poem

He came unto His own and His own received Him not

 As Christ the Lord was passing by, 
He came, one night, to a cottage door.
He came, a poor man, to the poor; He had no bed whereon to lie.
He asked in vain for a crust of bread, Standing there in the frozen blast.
The door was locked and bolted fast.
‘Only a beggar!’ the poor man said.
Christ the Lord went further on, Until He came to a palace gate.
There a king was keeping his state, In every window the candles shone.
The king beheld Him out in the cold.
He left his guests in the banquet-hall.
He bade his servants tend them all.
‘I wait on a Guest I know of old.
’ ‘’Tis only a beggar-man!’ they said.
‘Yes,’ he said; ‘it is Christ the Lord.
’ He spoke to Him a kindly word, He gave Him wine and he gave Him bread.
Now Christ is Lord of Heaven and Hell, And all the words of Christ are true.
He touched the cottage, and it grew; He touched the palace, and it fell.
The poor man is become a king.
Never was man so sad as he.
Sorrow and Sin on the throne make three, He has no joy in mortal thing.
But the sun streams in at the cottage door That stands where once the palace stood.
And the workman, toiling to earn his food, Was never a king before.
Written by Mary Elizabeth Coleridge | Create an image from this poem

The Witch

 I HAVE walked a great while over the snow, 
And I am not tall nor strong.
My clothes are wet, and my teeth are set, And the way was hard and long.
I have wandered over the fruitful earth, But I never came here before.
Oh, lift me over the threshold, and let me in at the door! The cutting wind is a cruel foe.
I dare not stand in the blast.
My hands are stone, and my voice a groan, And the worst of death is past.
I am but a little maiden still, My little white feet are sore.
Oh, lift me over the threshold, and let me in at the door! Her voice was the voice that women have, Who plead for their heart's desire.
She came--she came--and the quivering flame Sunk and died in the fire.
It never was lit again on my hearth Since I hurried across the floor, To lift her over the threshold, and let her in at the door.
Written by Mary Elizabeth Coleridge | Create an image from this poem


 The earth that made the rose, 
She also is thy mother, and not I.
The flame wherewith thy maiden spirit glows Was lighted at no hearth that I sit by.
I am as far below as heaven above thee.
Were I thine angel, more I could not love thee.
Bid me defend thee! Thy danger over-human strength shall lend me, A hand of iron and a heart of steel, To strike, to wound, to slay, and not to feel.
But if you chide me, I am a weak, defenceless child beside thee.
Written by Mary Elizabeth Coleridge | Create an image from this poem

To Memory

 Strange Power, I know not what thou art, 
Murderer or mistress of my heart.
I know I'd rather meet the blow Of my most unrelenting foe Than live---as now I live---to be Slain twenty times a day by thee.
Yet, when I would command thee hence, Thou mockest at the vain pretence, Murmuring in mine ear a song Once loved, alas! forgotten long; And on my brow I feel a kiss That I would rather die than miss.
Written by Mary Elizabeth Coleridge | Create an image from this poem

Blue and White

 BLUE is Our Lady’s colour, 
White is Our Lord’s.
To-morrow I will wear a knot Of blue and white cords, That you may see it, where you ride Among the flashing swords.
O banner, white and sunny blue, With prayer I wove thee! For love the white, for faith the heavenly hue, And both for him, so tender-true, Him that doth love me!