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Egg-citing Easter Poems to Brighten Your Day


Rejoice in the Resurrection: A Collection of Easter Poems

Welcome to our Easter Poems page! Here at 1LovePoems, we’re egg-cited to bring you a range of poems all about this egg-stra special holiday. From hopping bunnies to colorful eggs, our collection has got it all. So grab a basket (or a pen!) and hop into the Easter spirit with our poems.

Short Poems

Springtime Promise

Easter brings a new beginning,
As springtime promises renew,
Flowers bloom and birds are singing,
A world of possibility, anew.

Easter Joy

Easter brings a joyous feeling,
As we celebrate renewal and life,
We gather with loved ones, sharing,
In a day that vanquishes strife.

Falling Leaves

As fallen leaves give way to spring,
New life is born and flourishes,
We celebrate the season by gathering,
And sharing blessings and nourishes.

The Easter Gift

Resurrected, bright and triumphant,
In his hands the Easter gift,
A message of hope and faith,
For all of us to uplift.

Medium Poems

Spring Awakening

Spring awaken, from your winter sleep
The earth is calling, whispers in the trees
Beneath the soil, new life will soon rise
From barren land, beauty will arise

Buds bursting open, colors vibrant and bright
A symphony of renewal, a wondrous sight
With each dawn comes a new beginning
As spring opens up, life is singing

Let us embrace this season of rebirth
And find hope in each step we take on earth
As we shed our burdens and burdensome fears
May we be renewed, in this season of cheers

Easter Blessings

Easter blessings to you and yours
May the light of the season open doors
To happiness that fills your days with light
Bringing laughter, love, and pure delight

May your heart be open and your spirit free
As you celebrate this feast with me
With Easter eggs, chocolate treats, and more
Let’s rejoice and spread love galore!

Let’s cherish the memories that we make
And the love that we share, for goodness sake
May your Easter be filled with joy and peace
As we celebrate new life and sweet release

Resurrection

The bright morning sun has risen once again
As we celebrate Christ’s resurrection and reign
For our sins, he gave his life on the cross
A sacrifice for us, without a pause

In his rising, we see the power of love
And the victory of God’s grace, above
With each breath we take, let’s embrace
The gifts of life and love, in his holy place

Let us honor his sacrifice with every prayer
With kind acts and love that we daily share
And with each new dawn, let’s lift our voice
In praise and celebration, let’s rejoice!

Long Poems

The Resurrection

In the early morning, before the sun arose,
A miracle was happening, God’s love exposed.
The tomb was empty, a stone rolled away,
And angels appeared, to the women to say:

“Do not be afraid, on this glorious morn,
The one you seek, Jesus Christ, is reborn.
He has defeated death, and conquered sin,
And his eternal love, will always win.”

The women ran back, to tell the disciples,
Of the amazing news, that was truly vital.
But Thomas doubted, until he saw for his eyes,
The living Christ, before he rose to the skies.

The resurrection, a hope for all,
That death does not have the final call.
For in Jesus, we have eternal life,
And the promise of peace, to ease all strife.

We celebrate Easter, with joy and glee,
For the resurrection, has set us free.
Let us sing praises, to our risen Lord,
And live in his love, forevermore.

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Poetry

Easter poems – Most beautiful easter poems ever written


Easter, 1916

~

by William Butler Yeats
I have met them at close of day
Coming with vivid faces
From counter or desk among grey
Eighteenth-century houses.
I have passed with a nod of the head
Or polite meaningless words,
Or have lingered awhile and said
Polite meaningless words,
And thought before I had done
Of a mocking tale or a gibe
To please a companion
Around the fire at the club,
Being certain that they and I
But lived where motley is worn:
All changed, changed utterly:
A terrible beauty is born.
That woman’s days were spent
In ignorant good-will,
Her nights in argument
Until her voice grew shrill.
What voice more sweet than hers
When, young and beautiful,
She rode to harriers?
This man had kept a school
And rode our winged horse;
This other his helper and friend
Was coming into his force;
He might have won fame in the end,
So sensitive his nature seemed,
So daring and sweet his thought.
This other man I had dreamed
A drunken, vainglorious lout.
He had done most bitter wrong
To some who are near my heart,
Yet I number him in the song;
He, too, has resigned his part
In the casual comedy;
He, too, has been changed in his turn,
Transformed utterly:
A terrible beauty is born.
Hearts with one purpose alone
Through summer and winter seem
Enchanted to a stone
To trouble the living stream.
The horse that comes from the road.
The rider, the birds that range
From cloud to tumbling cloud,
Minute by minute they change;
A shadow of cloud on the stream
Changes minute by minute;
A horse-hoof slides on the brim,
And a horse plashes within it;
The long-legged moor-hens dive,
And hens to moor-cocks call;
Minute by minute they live:
The stone’s in the midst of all.
Too long a sacrifice
Can make a stone of the heart.
O when may it suffice?
That is Heaven’s part, our part
To murmur name upon name,
As a mother names her child
When sleep at last has come
On limbs that had run wild.
What is it but nightfall?
No, no, not night but death;
Was it needless death after all?
For England may keep faith
For all that is done and said.
We know their dream; enough
To know they dreamed and are dead;
And what if excess of love
Bewildered them till they died?
I write it out in a verse –
MacDonagh and MacBride
And Connolly and pearse
Now and in time to be,
Wherever green is worn,
Are changed, changed utterly:
A terrible beauty is born.

Easter Communion
by Gerard Manley Hopkins
Pure fasted faces draw unto this feast:
God comes all sweetness to your Lenten lips.
You striped in secret with breath-taking whips,
Those crooked rough-scored chequers may be pieced
To crosses meant for Jesu’s; you whom the East
With draught of thin and pursuant cold so nips
Breathe Easter now; you serged fellowships,
You vigil-keepers with low flames decreased,
God shall o’er-brim the measures you have spent
With oil of gladness, for sackcloth and frieze
And the ever-fretting shirt of punishment
Give myrrhy-threaded golden folds of ease.
Your scarce-sheathed bones are weary of being bent:
Lo, God shall strengthen all the feeble knees.

Easter
by Edmund Spenser
MOST glorious Lord of Lyfe! that, on this day,
Didst make Thy triumph over death and sin;
And, having harrowd hell, didst bring away
Captivity thence captive, us to win:
This joyous day, deare Lord, with joy begin;
And grant that we, for whom thou diddest dye,
Being with Thy deare blood clene washt from sin,
May live for ever in felicity!
And that Thy love we weighing worthily,
May likewise love Thee for the same againe;
And for Thy sake, that all lyke deare didst buy,
With love may one another entertayne!
So let us love, deare Love, lyke as we ought,
–Love is the lesson which the Lord us taught.

Easter Wings
by George Herbert
Lord, Who createdst man in wealth and store,
Though foolishly he lost the same,
Decaying more and more,
Till he became
Most poore:
With Thee
O let me rise,
As larks, harmoniously,
And sing this day Thy victories:
Then shall the fall further the flight in me.
My tender age in sorrow did beginne;
And still with sicknesses and shame
Thou didst so punish sinne,
That I became
Most thinne.
With Thee
Let me combine,
And feel this day Thy victorie;
For, if I imp my wing on Thine,
Affliction shall advance the flight in me.

Easter
by George Herbert
Rise, heart, thy lord is risen. Sing his praise
Without delays,
Who takes thee by the hand, that thou likewise
With him may’st rise:
That, as his death calcinèd thee to dust,
His life may make thee gold, and, much more, just.
Awake, my lute, and struggle for thy part
With all thy art,
The cross taught all wood to resound his name
Who bore the same.
His stretchèd sinews taught all strings what key
Is best to celebrate this most high day.
Consort, both heart and lute, and twist a song
Pleasant and long;
Or, since all music is but three parts vied
And multiplied
Oh let thy blessèd Spirit bear a part,
And make up our defects with his sweet art.

Easter Day
by Oscar Wilde
THE silver trumpets rang across the Dome:
The people knelt upon the ground with awe:
And borne upon the necks of men I saw,
Like some great God, the Holy Lord of Rome.
Priest-like, he wore a robe more white than foam,
And, king-like, swathed himself in royal red,
Three crowns of gold rose high upon his head:
In splendour and in light the Pope passed home.
My heart stole back across wide wastes of years
To One who wandered by a lonely sea,
And sought in vain for any place of rest:
‘Foxes have holes, and every bird its nest,
I, only I, must wander wearily,
And bruise my feet, and drink wine salt with tears.’

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