Poems begining by H
/ page 17 of 105 /
Halloween
© Madison Julius Cawein
It was down in the woodland on last Hallowe'en,
Where silence and darkness had built them a lair,
That I felt the dim presence of her, the unseen,
And heard her still step on the ghost-haunted air.
Hop-O'-My-Thumb And Little Jack Horner
© Christina Georgina Rossetti
Hop-o'-my-thumb and little Jack Horner,
What do you mean by tearing and fighting?
Sturdy dog Trot close round the corner,
I never caught him growling and biting.
Here is my gift
© Anna Akhmatova
Here is my gift, not roses on your grave,
not sticks of burning incense.
You lived aloof, maintaining to the end
your magnificent disdain.
Hart-Leap Well
© William Wordsworth
THE Knight had ridden down from Wensley Moor
With the slow motion of a summer's cloud,
And now, as he approached a vassal's door,
"Bring forth another horse!" he cried aloud.
Hate Not - Fear Not
© Robert Graves
Kill if you must, but never hate:
Man is but grass and hate is blight,
The sun will scorch you soon or late,
Die wholesome then, since you must fight.
Here's Luck
© Henry Lawson
No more well take a glass of ale when pushed with care an strife,
Anchuckle home with that old tale we used to tell the wife.
Well laugh anjoke an sing no more with jolly beery chums,
An shout Heres luck! while waitin for the luck that never comes.
He Andado Muchos Caminos
© Antonio Machado
He andado muchos caminos
he abierto muchas veredas;
he navegado en cien mares
y atracado en cien riberas.
Hudibras: Part 2 - Canto I
© Samuel Butler
Quoth she, I grant it is in vain.
For one that's basted to feel pain,
Because the pangs his bones endure
Contribute nothing to the cure:
Yet honor hurt, is wont to rage
With pain no med'cine can asswage.
Harps We Love
© Henry Kendall
The harp we love hath a royal burst!
Its strings are mighty forest trees;
And branches, swaying to and fro,
Are fingers sounding symphonies.
Honours -- Part I
© Jean Ingelow
To strive-and fail. Yes, I did strive and fail;
I set mine eyes upon a certain night
To find a certain star-and could not hail
With them its deep-set light.
He That Hath Ears
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
The Spirit says unto the churches,
"Ere ever the churches began
I lived in the centre of Being-
The life of the Purpose and Plan;
I flowed from the mind of the Maker
Through nature to man.
Haroun Al Raschid. (Birds Of Passage. Flight The Fifth)
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
One day, Haroun Al Raschid read
A book wherein the poet said:-
Homage To Sextus Propertius - X
© Ezra Pound
You are a very early inspector of mistresses.
Do you think I have adopted your habits?'
There were upon the bed no signs of a voluptuous encounter,
No signs of a second incumbent.
Har Qaum Raast Raahay
© Amir Khusro
Every sect has a faith, a direction (Qibla) to which they turn,
I have turned my face towards the crooked cap (of Nizamudin Aulia)
The whole world worships something or the other,
Some look for God in Mecca, while some go to Kashi (Banaras),
So why cant I, Oh wise people, fall into my beloveds feet?
Every sect has a faith, a Qibla.
