John Keble

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

John Keble Poems

41. Thirteenth Sunday After Trinity 1/1/2004
42. First Sunday After Trinity 1/1/2004
43. Nineteenth Sunday After Trinity 1/1/2004
44. Tuesday Before Easter 1/1/2004
45. Third Sunday After Easter 1/1/2004
46. Visitation And Communion Of The Sick 1/1/2004
47. Tenth Sunday After Trinity 1/1/2004
48. The Circumcision Of Christ 1/1/2004
49. Whitsunday 1/1/2004
50. Seventh Sunday After Trinity 1/1/2004
51. Sixteenth Sunday After Trinity 1/1/2004
52. Twenty-Fourth Sunday After Trinity 1/1/2004
53. St. Peter's Day 1/1/2004
54. Second Sunday After Epiphany 1/1/2004
55. St. Barnabas 1/1/2004
56. St. James's Day 1/1/2004
57. St. Michael And All Angels 1/1/2004
58. St. Mark's Day 1/1/2004
59. Forms Of Prayer To Be Used At Sea 1/1/2004
60. Seventeenth Sunday After Trinity 1/1/2004
61. St. Matthias' Day 1/1/2004
62. Quinquagesima Sunday 1/1/2004
63. Thursday Before Easter 1/3/2003
64. The Annunciation Of The Blessed Virgin 1/1/2004
65. Septuagesima Sunday 1/1/2004
66. St. Johns Day 1/1/2004
67. St. Andrew's Day 1/1/2004
68. Sun Of My Soul 1/3/2003
69. Wednesday Before Easter 1/1/2004
70. Third Sunday In Lent 1/1/2004
71. Sixth Sunday After Trinity 1/1/2004
72. Sexegesima Sunday 1/1/2004
73. Holy Matrimony 1/3/2003
74. Second Sunday In Lent 1/1/2004
75. The Holy Innocents 1/1/2004
76. Holy Baptism 1/1/2004
77. Fourth Sunday In Lent 1/1/2004
78. November 1/3/2003
79. Second Sunday After Easter 1/1/2004
80. Third Sunday After Epiphany 1/1/2004

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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

Burial

And when the Lord saw her, He had compassion on her, and said unto
her, Weep not. And He came and touched the bier; and they that
bare him stood still. And He said, Young man, I say unto thee,
Arise.--St. Luke vii. 13, 14.

Who says, the wan autumnal soon
Beams with too faint a smile
To light up nature's face again,
And, though the year be on this wane,

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