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James Henry Leigh Hunt
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James Henry Leigh Hunt Poems
- Abou Ben Adhem Abou Ben Adhem (may his tribe ...
- Jenny Kissed Me Jenny kissed me when we met, Jumping from ...
- A Night-Rain In Summer Open the window, and let the air ...
- An Angel In The House How sweet it were, if without feeble ...
- The Nile It flows through old hushed Egypt and its sands, ...
- The Glove And The Lions King Francis was a hearty king, and ...
- Death Death is a road our dearest friends have gone; Why ...
James Henry Leigh Hunt, best known as Leigh Hunt, was an English critic, essayist, poet and writer.
Early Life
Leigh Hunt was born at Southgate, London, where his parents had settled after leaving the USA. His father Isaac, a lawyer from Philadelphia, and his mother, Mary Shewell, a merchant's daughter and a devout Quaker, had been forced to come to Britain because of their loyalist sympathies during the American War of Independence. Hunt's father took holy orders and became a popular preacher, but he was unsuccessful in obtaining a permanent living. Hunt's father was then employed by James Brydges, 3rd Duke of Chandos as tutor to his nephew, James Henry Leigh (father ... more »
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Abou Ben Adhem
Abou Ben Adhem (may his tribe increase!)
Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace,
And saw, within the moonlight in his room,
Making it rich, and like a lily in bloom,
An angel writing in a book of gold:—
Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold,
And to the Presence in the room he said
"What writest thou?"—The vision raised its head,
And with a look made of all sweet accord,
Answered "The names of those who love the Lord."
"And is mine one?" said Abou. "Nay, not so,"
Replied the angel. Abou spoke more low,
But cheerly still, and said "I pray ...
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I read the poem About Ben Adhem
It is a nice poem
I really like it
JH Leigh Hunt in Poem
My step-father Tom Austin related a lovely memory about this poem. He was raised in a small Alabama mining town in the 1920's. His father died young, when Tom was a mere boy. One of his vivid memories of his father is miners gathered around the wood stove in a country store and listening to his father recite Abou Ben Adhem from memory. Tom could remember only the first two lines, but he never forgot the image of that scene, one of his few memories of his father. I can imagine small towns throughout America, perhaps the Scotch-Irish South in particuar, and even the Brisith Ises with similar scenes of poems being enjoyed through the oral tradition.
I read the poem 'Abou Ben Adhem 65 years ago and found it to be the greatest..........Always felt it was written for and about me.....Mike Fine
I find the poem, 'The Glove and the Lions', very amusing because human nature never really changes through the centuries. Here we have the arrogant, beautiful woman who is all wrapped up in herself and, refreshingly, we have the sensible hero who discerns that his girlfriend has serious flaws. We can all relate to this! Remember the song from about ten years ago, 'She ain't pretty, she just looks that way! '
Spent 15 minutes trying to get to the text of Abou Ben Adam on your site. You should hire a better computer nerd of maybe the CIA to make life easier to download a poem.
Paul Metz, MD
P.S. I did not succeed..