Poems begining by H
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Historic Evening
© Arthur Rimbaud
On an evening, for example, when the naive tourist has retired
from our economic horrors, a master's hand awakens
How Sweet It Is, When Mother Fancy Rocks
© William Wordsworth
HOW sweet it is, when mother Fancy rocks
The wayward brain, to saunter through a wood!
He Thinks Of His Past Greatness When A Part Of The Constellations Of Heaven
© William Butler Yeats
I have drunk ale from the Country of the Young
And weep because I know all things now:
Hope and Patience
© George MacDonald
An unborn bird lies crumpled and curled,
A-dreaming of the world.
Home
© George Herbert
Come, Lord, my head doth burn, my heart is sick,
While thou dost ever, ever stay:
Thy long deferrings wound me to the quick,
My spirit gaspeth night and day.
O show thy self to me,
Or take me up to thee!
Haidouks
© Hristo Botev
Father and Son
Come, Grandfather, blow on your pipe now,
And I will take up the tune
With songs of our heroes, of haidouks,
Harvest Hymn
© Sarojini Naidu
Lord of the rainbow, lord of the harvest,
Great and beneficent lord of the main!
Thine is the mercy that cherished our furrows,
Hermann And Dorothea - III. Thalia
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
THE BURGHERS.
THUS did the prudent son escape from the hot conversation,
How Do You Buy Your Money?
© Edgar Albert Guest
How do you buy your money? For money is bought and sold,
And each man barters himself on earth for his silver and shining gold,
And by the bargain he makes with men, the sum of his life is told.
How Is It?
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
You who are loudly crying out for peace,
You who are wanting love to vanquish hate.
How is it in the four walls of your home
The while you wait?
Hail, Columbia!
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
"Firm--united--let us be,
Rallying round our Liberty;
As a band of brothers join'd,
Peace and safety we shall find."
He Was Lucky
© Anna Swirszczynska
The old man
leaves his house, carries books.
A German soldier snatches his books
flings them in the mud.
Hard Times Come Again No More
© Stephen C. Foster
Let us pause in life's pleasures and count its many tears,
While we all sup sorrow with the poor;
There's a song that will linger forever in our ears;
Oh, hard times come again no more.
Hope Deferred
© George MacDonald
Thus ringed eternally, to parted graves,
The sundered doors into one palace home,
Stumbling through age's thickets, we will go,
Faltering but faithful-willing to lie low,
Willing to part, not willing to deny
The lovely past, where all the futures lie.
Hark! Hark! The Lark
© William Shakespeare
Hark! hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings,
And Phoebus 'gins arise,
His steeds to water at those springs
On chalic'd flowers that lies;
he and the hilltown
© Rg Gregory
when they look into his mind they find a hill town
somewhat surprised they go off to their learned books
outside (architecturally) hed seems a little wind-blown
not special a common sort of shackman by his looks
