A Sonnet.

    We gentler grow by sorrow; not the breast
        That never crouches in the nights of tears,
        That never bends beneath the loads of years,
    Has sympathies that are the kindliest.
    There is a strength in agony that best
        Can link the careless heart with human fears,
        And teach it that fond kindness which endears
    The millions that with sadness are oppressed.

    Grief softens while it saddens; pleasure smites
        The timid soul with harshness, till it knows
        Small earnest of the great world's grievous woes
    And little of its struggles; sorrow plights
    Her troth with sorrow, and in tears unites
        Man unto man and hatred overthrows.

Freeman Edwin Miller

Freeman Edwin Miller was an American poet, journalist, and teacher, best known for his work in Oklahoma. Born on November 9, 1864, in New Jersey, Miller moved to Oklahoma in 1894, where he became a prominent figure in the literary and educational communities. He is remembered for his contributions to early Oklahoma literature, as well as his work in promoting education and journalism in the region. He passed away on July 14, 1951.

Freeman Edwin Miller

My Shadow And I.

Freeman Edwin Miller, Simple Poetry

Love, Thou Gayest Fancy-Weaver.

Freeman Edwin Miller, Simple Poetry

When Thou Art Near.

Freeman Edwin Miller, Simple Poetry

Sonnet.

Freeman Edwin Miller, Simple Poetry

English

Suggested Poems

Explore a curated selection of verses that share themes, styles, and emotional resonance with the poem you've just read.

Sonnet.

    Somehow, someway, I can not see the light;
        The giant hills of doubting reach the skies,
    Abiding shadows bring eternal night,
        And on my ways no suns of morning rise;
    Dark mysteries across the years of might
        Crush down my hopes, until each yearning dies,
    Until my soul is weary, dim my sight,
        And ghostly echoes mock my fainting cries.

    Ah, I shall know beyond these narrow years,
        The glorious mornings of eternal day,
        Where perfect love and tender trust shall play,
    And smiles and laughter banish all the tears,
    And all the heavy mists of doubts and fears
        Shall leave my longing soul somehow, someway!

Freeman Edwin Miller

Stanzas.

    Put not trust nor tenderness to sleep,
        In sorrow sad;
    The heart, in which a little love may creep,
        Is not all bad.

    The darkest hours that wear a wondrous gloom,
        Are somewhat light,
    If but one ray of brilliancy illume
        The brooding night.

    The field in which the weed and bramble thrive
        Has some of good,
    If but a single blossom struggling live
        Amid the rude.

    The ocean vast is not all desolate,
        The worlds between,
    If on its waters bearing human freight
        One sail is seen.

    All is not harsh and cold amid the wood,
        If warbled song
    Resound, how feebly, through the solitude
        Of tangled wrong.

    The deser...

Freeman Edwin Miller

Discontent.

    The sun comes up in the east
        And the sun goes down in the west,
    And man to me is a heartless beast
        And the world has only a savage breast.

    How thoughts rush over my soul
        As the waves walk over the sea!
    Their forms flee soon and the sorrows roll
        In the deep distress that is over me.

    How hopes arise in my heart,
        As the roses bloom over the plain!
    But time is tearing their sweets apart
        And they die in darkness and awful pain.

    Ambitions burn in my breast,
        As the fires in a city rage;
    But damp creeps over their fervid zest
        And they sink away into ashen age.

    If there was pleasure for pain
        I could well be happy awhile,
    And,...

Freeman Edwin Miller

Compensation.

    The softest beams of the stars are born in the farthest skies,
    And fairest rays of the sun where evening shadows rise;
    The sweetest songs of the bird are sung in the darkest days,
    And rarest blooms of the spring are found in the wildest ways.

    The brightest blush of the rose is blown as the petals fade.
    The greenest grass of the earth is grown in the hidden glade;
    The fondest rhyme of the rill is heard in the secret vale,
    And lightest lays of the breeze are borne from the dying gale.

    The highest hopes of the heart in saddest of sorrows grow,
    The purest pleasures of joy arise in the wane of woe;
    The gladdest smiles of the lips are seen in the hours of pain,
    And proudest days of the free are spent by the broken chain.

Freeman Edwin Miller

Ex Anima.

    The gloomy hours of silence wake
        Remembrance and her train,
    And phantoms through the fancies chase
        The mem'ries that remain;
    And hidden in the dark embrace
        Of days that now are gone,
    I see a form, a fairy form,
        And fancy hurries on!

    I see the old familiar smile,
        I hear the tender tone,
    I greet the softness of the glance
        That cheered me when alone;
    The ruby chains of rich romance
        That bound our bosoms o'er,
    I still can know, I still can feel,
        As they were felt before.

    I name the vows, the fresh young vows,
        That we together said;
    What matters it? She can not know;
        She slumbers with the dead!
    Again the fields ...

Freeman Edwin Miller

Stanzas.

    God bless the man who gave us rest
        And him who taught us play,
    For kindness reigned within his breast
        To all our sorrow slay;
    The weary heart, the fainting limb,
        The soul that droops in woe,
    Should most unceasing praise on him
        In gratitude bestow.

    He is the hero of the race,
        The toiling nation's friend,
    For pity smiles upon his face
        With joys that never end;
    He tears away the iron gyves
        That chain our best repose,
    And makes the deserts of our lives
        To blossom as the rose.

    He pours his balms into the wound
        Of bosom weak and sad,
    Till holy pleasures flit around
        And all the heart is glad;
    Till all is sweet tha...

Freeman Edwin Miller