Sabbath Morning. (From The Villager's Verse-Book.)

The Sabbath bells are knolling slow,
The summer morn how fair!
Whilst father, mother, children go,
And seek the house of prayer.

Some, musing, roam the churchyard round,
Some turn their heads with sighs,
And gaze upon the new-made ground
Where old Giles Summers lies.

But see the pastor in his band,
The bells have ceased to knoll;
Now enter, and at God's command,
Think, Christian, of thy soul.

Whilst heavenly hopes around thee shine,
As in God's presence live,
And calmer comforts shall be thine,
Than all the world can give.

William Lisle Bowles

William Lisle Bowles was an English cleric, poet, and critic who was born on 24th September 1762 and died on 7th April 1850. He is best known for his sonnets, which were highly praised by the Romantic poets. Bowles's work significantly influenced Samuel Taylor Coleridge and William Wordsworth. Besides his poetry, he wrote extensively on literary criticism and editing. Bowles spent much of his clerical career in Wiltshire and Gloucestershire.

William Lisle Bowles

On Accidentally Meeting A Lady Now No More

William Lisle Bowles, Simple Poetry

From Idyl XXII. (Pictures From Theocritus - From Idyl I.)

William Lisle Bowles, Simple Poetry

Dover Cliffs

William Lisle Bowles, Simple Poetry

Death Of Nelson - West. (Exhibition, 1807.)

William Lisle Bowles, 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.

A Sabbath Morning In The Country.

'Tis morning, and the meadows yet,
Are wet with gracious drops of dew.
Each blade of grass, and flow'r, is set
With sparkling gems of richest hue.
The sun, with rising glory, sheds
A radiance, that none divine,
Save those, who early leave their beds,
When glist'ning dew-drops briefly shine.

Just ere the rising sunbeams play,
From glorious orb, of rosy red,
There is no sound of life, no hum,
And but, seemingly, all things are dead.

But when the blessed, welcome beams,
Light up, and cheer, and warm the earth,
All things awaken from their dreams,
To celebrate Creation's birth.

The very fields are filled with life,
With hum of bee, and insect throng;
The woods are vocal, with the strife
Of friendly rivalry, in song.
But 'tis t...

Thomas Frederick Young

Sunday Night. (From The Villager's Verse-Book.)

Let us unfold God's holy book,
And by the taper's light,
With hearts subdued, and sober look,
So spend the Sabbath night.

Where now the thoughts of anxious life,
Its guilty pleasures, where?
Here dies its loud and mourning strife,
And all its sounds of care.

Let other views our hearts engross,
To our Redeemer true,
Who seems expiring on the cross,
To say, I died for you!

William Lisle Bowles

Summer's Evening. (From The Villager's Verse-Book.)

As homeward by the evening star
I pass along the plain,
I see the taper's light afar,
Shine through our cottage pane.

My brothers and my sisters dear,
The child upon the knee,
Spring when my hastening steps they hear,
And smile to welcome me.

But when the fire is growing dim,
And mother's labours cease,
I fold my hands, repeat my hymn,
And lay me down in peace.

William Lisle Bowles

Sabbath Bells

Oh holy Sabbath bells,
Ye have a pleasant voice!
Through all the land your music swells,
And man with one commandment tells
To rest and to rejoice.

As birds rejoice to flee
From dark and stormy skies
To brighter lands beyond the sea
Where skies are calm, and wings are free
To wander and to rise;

As thirsty travellers sing,
Through desert paths that pass,
To hear the welcome waters spring,
And see, beyond the spray they fling
Tall trees and waving grass;

So we rejoice to know
Your melody begun;
For when our paths are parched below
Ye tell us where green pastures glow
And living waters run.

LONDON, December 15, 1840.

George MacDonald

Sabbath Memories.

I love thee, Sabbath morn! - I cannot say
    But 'tis because my father loved thee so, -
    Because my mother's care-worn face would grow
So sweetly placid in thy peaceful ray; -

It may be, that is part of what endears
    Thee, Sabbath, to my soul; for memory stirs
    Old buried thoughts of his voice and of hers -
Heard never more on Earth - till sudden tears

So sadly sweet well up, I bid them flow,
    They leave a Sabbath in the soul when past;
    As when the sky, by April clouds o'ercast,
Shows fairer in the sun's returning glow.

I see the grass-grown lane we trod of old,
    Dear father, sainted mother! while
    The Sabbath sun looked down with loving smile,
And touched the hills and streams with rippling gold.

I hear y...

Pamela S. Vining (J. C. Yule)

Sunrise. (From The Villager's Verse-Book.)

When from my humble bed I rise,
And see the morning sun,
That, glorious in the eastern skies,
Its journey has begun,

I think of the Almighty Power
Which called this orb from night;
I think how many at this hour
Rejoice beneath its light.

And then I pray, in every land,
Where'er this light is shed,
That all who live may bless the Hand
Which gives their daily bread.

William Lisle Bowles