Envy.

    When Satan sends - to vex the mind of man
    And urge him on to meanness and to wrong -
    His satellites, there is not one that can
    Acquit itself like envy. Not so strong
    As lust, so quick as fear, so big as hate -
    A pigmy thing, the twin of sordid greed -
    Its work all noble things to underrate,
    Decry fair face, fair form, fair thought, fair deed,
    A sneer it has for what is highest, best,
    For love's soft voice, and virtue's robe of white;
    Truth is not true, and pity is not kind,
    A great task done is but a pastime light.
    Tormented and tormenting is the mind
    That grants to envy room to make its nest.

Jean Blewett

Jean Blewett was a Canadian author, journalist, and poet. Born in Scotia, Ontario, she became well-known for her poetry and was awarded the part of lyrical poet at the World’s Fair in Chicago, 1893. Her notable works were often published in literary magazines. Besides poetry, Blewett also wrote stories and worked as a journalist, gaining considerable respect in both fields. She passed away in Chatham, Ontario, in 1934. Her legacy remains a significant part of Canadian literary history.

Jean Blewett

For He Was Scotch, And So Was She.

Jean Blewett, Simple Poetry

The Native Born.

Jean Blewett, Simple Poetry

Chore Time.

Jean Blewett, 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.

Envy And Avarice.

("L'Avarice et l'Envie.")

[LE CONSERVATEUR LIITÉRAIRE, 1820.]


Envy and Avarice, one summer day,
Sauntering abroad
In quest of the abode
Of some poor wretch or fool who lived that way -
You - or myself, perhaps - I cannot say -
Along the road, scarce heeding where it tended,
Their way in sullen, sulky silence wended;

For, though twin sisters, these two charming creatures,
Rivals in hideousness of form and features,
Wasted no love between them as they went.
Pale Avarice,
With gloating eyes,
And back and shoulders almost double bent,
Was hugging close that fatal box
For which she's ever on the watch
Some glance to catch
Suspiciously directed to its locks;
And Envy, too, no doubt with silent winking
At her green, ...

Victor-Marie Hugo

Discontent.

    My soul spoke low to Discontent:
    Long hast thou lodged with me,
    Now, ere the strength of me is spent,
    I would be quit of thee.

    Thy presence means revolt, unrest,
    Means labor, longing, pain;
    Go, leave me, thou unwelcome guest,
    Nor trouble me again.

    I longed for peace - for peace I cried;
    You would not let her in;
    No room was there for aught beside
    The turmoil and the din.

    I longed for rest, prayed life might yield
    Soft joy and dear delight;
    You urged me to the battlefield,
    And flung me in the fight.

    We two part company to-day.
    Now, ere my strength be spent,
    I open wide my doors and say:
    "Begone, thou Discontent!"

    Then something s...

Jean Blewett

Plain Sermons

I saw a man - and envied him beside -
    Because of this world's goods he had great store;
But even as I envied him, he died,
    And left me envious of him no more.

I saw another man - and envied still -
    Because he was content with frugal lot;
But as I envied him, the rich man's will
    Bequeathed him all, and envy I forgot.

Yet still another man I saw, and he
    I envied for a calm and tranquil mind
That nothing fretted in the least degree -
    Until, alas! I found that he was blind.

What vanity is envy! for I find
    I have been rich in dross of thought, and poor
In that I was a fool, and lastly blind
    For never having seen myself before!

James Whitcomb Riley

Song Of Jealousy, In Love Triumphant.

    What state of life can be so blest
    As love, that warms a lover's breast?
    Two souls in one, the same desire
    To grant the bliss, and to require!
    But if in heaven a hell we find,
    'Tis all from thee,
    O Jealousy!
    'Tis all from thee,
    O Jealousy!
    Thou tyrant, tyrant Jealousy,
    Thou tyrant of the mind!
    All other ills, though sharp they prove,
    Serve to refine, and perfect love:
    In absence, or unkind disdain,
    Sweet hope relieves the lover's pain.
    But, ah! no cure but death we find,
    To set us free
    From Jealousy:
    O Jealousy!
    Thou tyrant, tyrant Jealousy,
    Thou tyrant of the mind!

    False in thy glass all objects are,
    Some set too near, and some too f...

John Dryden

To Laura In Death. Sonnet XXXII.

Quanta invidia ti porto, avara terra.

HE ENVIES EARTH, HEAVEN, AND DEATH THEIR POSSESSION OF HIS TREASURE.


    O earth, whose clay-cold mantle shrouds that face,
And veils those eyes that late so brightly shone,
Whence all that gave delight on earth was known,
How much I envy thee that harsh embrace!
O heaven, that in thy airy courts confined
That purest spirit, when from earth she fled,
And sought the mansions of the righteous dead;
How envious, thus to leave my panting soul behind!
O angels, that in your seraphic choir
Received her sister-soul, and now enjoy
Still present, those delights without alloy,
Which my fond heart must still in vain desire!
In her I lived--in her my life decays;
Yet envious Fate denies to end my hapless days.

Francesco Petrarca

The Idler.

    If but one spark of honest zeal
    Flashes to life within his breast -
    A feeble, flick'ring spark at best;
    If for a moment he doth feel
    A dim desire to throw aside
    The bonds that idleness has wrought,
    To do, to be the man he ought,
    The tyrant thing he calls his pride -

    The curse of all things good on earth -
    Takes on the cruel midwife's role,
    And each high impulse of the soul
    Is strangled in the hour of birth.
    "To dig I am ashamed," quoth he;
    "Mine is the pride of name and race
    That scorns to fill such humble space -
    Life's lowly tasks are not for me."

    Oh, he can flatter with his tongue,
    Can toady to the rich and great,
    Can fawn on those he feels to hate,
    Un...

Jean Blewett