Sympathy Poems

Popular Sympathy Poems
Lost At Sea
by Georgia Rose Mclane Colli

Three bright souls were lost at sea
ships out searching found all three
John was the star and icon for us all
Never dreaming on flight his plane could fall. Carolyn sweet so loving and kind
Left this old world before her time
Lauren her sister made her way in the world
Was on board when this plane did twirl No one could stop what was to be their fate
It was their time to meet god at the golden gate
I'm sure John and Jackie were standing there
Hugging and loving them with such care They have left this Earth gone to infinity

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Wind
by Shannon Thompson

With unreputable awe, I take witness to a lulled abounding force,
As subtle arousing whispers sweep through the effervescent valley;
Dried leaves then flutter, in sunlight while trees bow to this
glorious resurrection;
With heaven's breath contoured, the loving consecration
Seemingly echoing the sung message from the wolf's den to God's
gate.
Independence giving this soul prominence in contorted love.
Nature yields this hallowed frame spryly awakened. Those hands adorned with a painted grace, passed on with flight
and speed.

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Ch 01 Manner Of Kings Story 10
by Saadi Shirazi

I was constantly engaged in prayer, at the head of the prophet
Yahia's tomb in the cathedral mosque of Damascus, when one of the Arab
kings, notorious for his injustice, happened to arrive on a pilgrimage
to it, who offered his supplications and asked for compliance with his
needs.

The dervish and the plutocrat are slaves on the floor of this
threshold
And those who are the wealthiest are the most needy.


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Follow Your Saint
by Thomas Campion

Follow your saint, follow with accents sweet;
Haste you, sad notes, fall at her flying feet.
There, wrapp'd in cloud of sorrow, pity move,
And tell the ravisher of my soul I perish for her love:
But if she scorns my never-ceasing pain,
Then burst with sighing in her sight and ne'er return again.

All that I sung still to her praise did tend,
Still she was first; still she my songs did end;
Yet she my love and music both doth fly,

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On The Bill Which Was Passed In England For Regulating The Slave-Trade
by Helen Maria Williams

The hollow winds of night no more
In wild, unequal cadence pour,
On musing fancy's wakeful ear,
The groan of agony severe
From yon dark vessel, which contains
The wretch new bound in hopeless chains!
Whose soul with keener anguish bleeds,
As AFRIC'S less'ning shore recedes--

No more where Ocean's unseen bound

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Recent Sympathy Poems
I Sing The Body Electric
by Walt Whitman

I SING the Body electric;
The armies of those I love engirth me, and I engirth them;
They will not let me off till I go with them, respond to them,
And discorrupt them, and charge them full with the charge of the
Soul.

Was it doubted that those who corrupt their own bodies conceal
themselves;
And if those who defile the living are as bad as they who defile the
dead?

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Behavior
by Walt Whitman

BEHAVIOR--fresh, native, copious, each one for himself or herself,
Nature and the Soul expressed--America and freedom expressed--In it
the finest art,
In it pride, cleanliness, sympathy, to have their chance,
In it physique, intellect, faith--in it just as much as to manage an
army or a city, or to write a book--perhaps more,
The youth, the laboring person, the poor person, rivalling all the
rest--perhaps outdoing the rest,
The effects of the universe no greater than its;
For there is nothing in the whole universe that can be more effective

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Poems Of Joys
by Walt Whitman

O TO make the most jubilant poem!
Even to set off these, and merge with these, the carols of Death.
O full of music! full of manhood, womanhood, infancy!
Full of common employments! full of grain and trees.

O for the voices of animals! O for the swiftness and balance of
fishes!
O for the dropping of rain-drops in a poem!
O for the sunshine, and motion of waves in a poem.


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Life Is A Privilege
by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Life is a privilege. Its youthful days
Shine with the radiance of continuous Mays.
To live, to breathe, to wonder and desire,
To feed with dreams the heart’s perpetual fire,
To thrill with virtuous passions, and to glow
With great ambitions – in one hour to know
The depths and heights of feeling – God! in truth,
How beautiful, how beautiful is youth!

Life is a privilege. Like some rare rose

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Womanhood
by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

She must be honest, both in thought and deed,
Of generous impulse, and above all greed;
Not seeking praise, or place, or power, or pelf,
But life’s best blessings for her higher self,
Which means the best for all.
She must have faith,
To make good friends of Trouble, Pain, and Death,
And understand their message.
She should be
As redolent with tender sympathy

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