Poems begining by H
/ page 10 of 105 /Hear What The Mournful Linnets Say
© Christina Georgina Rossetti
Hear what the mournful linnets say:
We built our nest compact and warm,
How Soon The Servant Sun
© Dylan Thomas
A leg as long as trees,
This inward sir,
Mister and master, darkness for his eyes,
The womb-eyed, cries,
And all sweet hell, deaf as an hour's ear,
Blasts back the trumpet voice.
Hymn VIII: What Could Your Redeemer Do
© Charles Wesley
What could your Redeemer do
More than he hath done for you?
Hyperion. Book II
© John Keats
Just at the self-same beat of Time's wide wings
Hyperion slid into the rustled air,
Hope Deferred
© Robert Fuller Murray
When the weary night is fled,
And the morning sky is red,
Then my heart doth rise and say,
`Surely she will come to-day.'
Human Failings
© Edgar Albert Guest
RECKON when our days are done
And God takes up our record sheets, And sees the battles we have won, He'll want to read of our defeats.
Hannibal's Oath
© Letitia Elizabeth Landon
AND the night was dark and calm,
There was not a breath of air,
The leaves of the grove were still,
As the presence of death were there;
How Little Red Riding Hood Came To Be Eaten
© Guy Wetmore Carryl
The Moral: There's nothing much glummer
Than children whose talents appall:
One much prefers those who are dumber,
But as for the paragons small,
If a swallow cannot make a summer
It can bring on a summary fall!
Heliodorus In The Temple
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
A sound of woe in Salem! - mournful cries
Rose from her dwellings - youthful cheeks were pale,
Tears flowing fast from dim and aged eyes,
And voices mingling in tumultuous wail;
Hands raised to heaven in agony of prayer,
And powerless wrath, and terror, and despair.
Hymn For The Two Hundredth Anniversary Of Kings Chapel
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
O'ERSHADOWED by the walls that climb,
Piled up in air by living hands,
A rock amid the waves of time,
Our gray old house of worship stands.
Hop, Skip And Jump: A Queer Trio Personified.
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
O! HOP is a sailor used up in the war,
With a single good leg to stand on;
And a face as dingy almost as the tar
He was wont to rest his hand on:
Hesper
© John Le Gay Brereton
Not till the sun, that brings to birth
The myriad marvels of the earth
Hymn For The Opening Of Plymouth Church, St. Paul, Minnesota
© John Greenleaf Whittier
All things are Thine: no gift have we,
Lord of all gifts, to offer Thee;
And hence with grateful hearts to-day,
Thy own before Thy feet we lay.
Hawarden
© George Meredith
When comes the lighted day for men to read
Life's meaning, with the work before their hands
Hacking Home
© William Henry Ogilvie
When your homing carloads swing
Past us down the crisping lanes,
How sickto waitin any placebut thine
© Emily Dickinson
How sickto waitin any placebut thine
I knew last nightwhen someone tried to twine
Thinkingperhapsthat I looked tiredor alone
Or breakingalmostwith unspoken pain
Hyperion. Book III
© John Keats
Thus in altemate uproar and sad peace,
Amazed were those Titans utterly.
His Dream Of Skyland
© Li Po
The seafarers tell of the Eastern Isle of Bliss,
It is lost in a wilderness of misty sea waves.
Hazel Blossoms
© John Greenleaf Whittier
THE SUMMER warmth has left the sky,
The summer songs have died away;
And, withered, in the footpaths lie
The fallen leaves, but yesterday
With ruby and with topaz gay.
Hellenistics
© Robinson Jeffers
I look at the Greek-derived design that nourished my infancy
this Wedgwood copy of the Portland vase:
Someone had given it to my father my eyes at five years old
used to devour it by the hour.