Poems begining by H
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How Full of God
© Charles Harpur
To leave them dark, and such a tinge
Oer every aftersunset throw,
That it should only seem to fringe
The pall of a dead long ago.
Harebell And Pansy
© Robert Laurence Binyon
O'er the round throat her little head
Its gay delight upbuoys:
A harebell in the breeze of June
Hath such melodious poise;
And chiming with her heart, my heart
Is only hers and joy's.
Horace To His Lute
© Eugene Field
If ever in the sylvan shade
A song immortal we have made,
Come now, O lute, I pri' thee come--
Inspire a song of Latium.
How Sweet The Name Of Jesus Sounds
© John Newton
How sweet the name of Jesus sounds
In a believer's ear?
It soothes his sorrows, heals his wounds,
And drives away his fear.
Helen
© Madison Julius Cawein
Heaped in raven loops and masses
Over temples smooth and fair,
Have you marked it, as she passes,
Gleam and shadow mingled there,--
Braided strands of midnight air,--
Helen's hair?
How Many, How Much
© Sheldon Allan Silverstein
How many slams in an old screen door?
Depends how loud you shut it.
How many slices in a bread?
Depends how thin you cut it.
Hier Au Soir
© Victor Marie Hugo
Hier, le vent du soir, dont le souffle caresse,
Nous apportait l'odeur des fleurs qui s'ouvrent tard ;
La nuit tombait ; l'oiseau dormait dans l'ombre épaisse.
Le printemps embaumait, moins que votre jeunesse ;
Les astres rayonnaient, moins que votre regard.
Hermann and Thusnelda
© Friedrich Gottlieb Klopstock
Ha! there comes he, with sweat, with blood of Romans,
And with dust of the fight all stained! O, never
Saw I Hermann so lovely!
Never such fire in his eyes!
Hearing A Flute On A Spring Night In Luoyang
© Li Po
From whose home secretly flies the sound of a jade flute?
It's lost amid the spring wind which fills Luoyang city.
In the middle of this nocturne I remember the snapped willow,
What person would not start to think of home!
Hunting Horns
© Guillaume Apollinaire
Our storys noble as its tragic
like the grimace of a tyrant
no dramas chance or magic
no detail thats indifferent
Hot Afternoons Have Been in Montana
© Eli Siegel
Quiet and green was the grass of the field,
The sky was whole in brightness,
His First Long Trousers
© Edgar Albert Guest
SAY, young fellow, just a minute,
They 're your first long trousers, eh?
Handy Man
© Sheldon Allan Silverstein
Well on a Monday I'll be slingin' hash Tuesday I'll be collectin' trash
And on a Wednesday I might be tendin' bar
Thursday I'll be the guy who parks your car
On a Friday I might be teachin' school a Saturday finds me hustlin' pool
I got a whole lotta talents in demand that's why they call me Handy Man
Hymn XXIV: Saviour, If Thy Precious Love
© Charles Wesley
Saviour, if thy precious love
Could be merited by mine,
Haunted
© Mathilde Blind
Why will you haunt me unawares,
And walk into my sleep,
Pacing its shadowy thoroughfares,
Where long-dried perfume scents the airs,
Helian
© Georg Trakl
In the spirits solitary hours
It is lovely to walk in the sun
Along the yellow walls of summer.
Quietly whisper the steps in the grass; yet always sleeps
The son of Pan in the grey marble.
Hypotheses Hypochondriacae
© Charles Kingsley
And should she die, her grave should be
Upon the bare top of a sunny hill,
Her Likeness
© Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
A GIRL, who has so many wilful ways
She would have caused Job's patience to forsake him;
Yet is so rich in all that's girlhood's praise,
Did Job himself upon her goodness gaze,
A little better she would surely make him.
