John Keble

(25 April 1792 – 29 March 1866 / Fairford, Gloucestershire)

John Keble Poems

1. The Restoration Of The Royal Family 1/1/2004
2. Sixth Sunday After Epiphany 1/1/2004
3. Trinity Sunday 1/1/2004
4. The Conversion Of St. Paul 1/1/2004
5. Second Sunday After Christmas 1/1/2004
6. St. Bartholomew 1/1/2004
7. St. John Baptist's Day 1/1/2004
8. St. Luke 1/1/2004
9. Second Sunday After Trinity 1/1/2004
10. Twenty-Third Sunday After Trinity 1/1/2004
11. Tuesday In Whitsun-Week 1/1/2004
12. First Sunday In Lent 1/1/2004
13. Twelfth Sunday After Trinity 1/1/2004
14. Holy Baptism 1/1/2004
15. Fourth Sunday After Trinity 1/1/2004
16. Matrimony 1/1/2004
17. Holy Communion 1/1/2004
18. Fourth Sunday After Epiphany 1/1/2004
19. Second Sunday In Advent 1/1/2004
20. St. Matthew 1/1/2004
21. Monday In Easter Week 1/1/2004
22. Monday In Whitsun-Week 1/1/2004
23. St. Stephens Day 1/1/2004
24. St. Philip And St. James 1/1/2004
25. Twenty-Fifth Sunday After Trinity 1/1/2004
26. King Charles The Martyr 1/3/2003
27. Third Sunday After Trinity 1/1/2004
28. Fourteenth Sunday After Trinity 1/1/2004
29. Fourth Sunday After Easter 1/1/2004
30. Monday Before Easter 1/1/2004
31. Ninth Sunday After Trinity 1/1/2004
32. St. Thomas' Day 1/1/2004
33. The Epiphany 1/1/2004
34. The Accession 1/1/2004
35. Third Sunday In Advent 1/1/2004
36. Fourth Sunday In Advent 1/1/2004
37. Tuesday In Easter Week 1/1/2004
38. St. Simon And St. Jude 1/1/2004
39. Sunday Next Before Advent 1/1/2004
40. Thirteenth Sunday After Trinity 1/1/2004
Best Poem of John Keble

Morning

Hues of the rich unfolding morn,
That, ere the glorious sun be born,
By some soft touch invisible
Around his path are taught to swell; -

Thou rustling breeze so fresh and gay,
That dancest forth at opening day,
And brushing by with joyous wing,
Wakenest each little leaf to sing; -

Ye fragrant clouds of dewy steam,
By which deep grove and tangled stream
Pay, for soft rains in season given,
Their tribute to the genial heaven; -

Why waste your treasures of delight
Upon our thankless, joyless sight;
Who day by day to sin awake,
Seldom of ...

Read the full of Morning

Ascension Day

Soft cloud, that while the breeze of May
Chants her glad matins in the leafy arch,
Draw'st thy bright veil across the heavenly way
Meet pavement for an angel's glorious march:

My soul is envious of mine eye,
That it should soar and glide with thee so fast,
The while my grovelling thoughts half buried lie,
Or lawless roam around this earthly waste.

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