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

Evening

'Tis gone, that bright and orbed blaze,
Fast fading from our wistful gaze;
You mantling cloud has hid from sight
The last faint pulse of quivering light.

In darkness and in weariness
The traveller on his way must press,
No gleam to watch on tree or tower,
Whiling away the lonesome hour.

Sun of my soul! Thou Saviour dear,
It is not night if Thou be near:
Oh, may no earth-born cloud arise
To hide Thee from Thy servant's eyes!

When round Thy wondrous works below
My searching rapturous glance I throw,
Tracing out Wisdom, Power and Love,
In ...

Read the full of Evening

Churching Of Women

Is there, in bowers of endless spring,
One known from all the seraph band
By softer voice, by smile and wing
More exquisitely bland!
Here let him speed: to-day this hallowed air
Is fragrant with a mother's first and fondest prayer.

Only let Heaven her fire impart,
No richer incense breathes on earth:

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