Poems begining by H
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Hour-Glass And Bible
© William Lisle Bowles
Look, Christian, on thy Bible, and that glass
That sheds its sand through minutes, hours, and days,
Horace, Book I. Ode XXXVIII.
© William Cowper
Boy, I hate their empty shows,
Persian garlands I detest,
H. S. Mauberley (Life and Contacts) [Part I]
© Ezra Pound
E. P. Ode pour l'élection de son sépulchre
For three years, out of key with his time,
He strove to resuscitate the dead art
Of poetry; to maintain "the sublime"
In the old sense. Wrong from the start i
Hospital Barge At Cerisy
© Wilfred Owen
One reading by that calm bank shaded eyes
To watch her lessening westward quietly.
Then, as she neared the bend, her funnel screamed.
And that long lamentation made him wise
How unto Avalon, in agony,
Kings passed in the dark barge, which Merlin dreamed.
How's My Boy?
© Sydney Thompson Dobell
'Ho, Sailor of the sea!
How's my boy-my boy?'
'What's your boy's name, good wife,
And in what good ship sailed he?'
Hymn to Life
© James Schuyler
The wind rests its cheek upon the ground and feels the cool damp
And lifts its head with twigs and small dead blades of grass
Heavy Summer Rain
© Jane Kenyon
The grasses in the field have toppled,
and in places it seems that a large, now
absent, animal must have passed the night.
The hay will right itself if the day
History
© Robert Laurence Binyon
Time has stored all, but keeps his chronicle
In secret, beyond all our probe or gauge.
There flows the human story, vast and full;
And here a muddy trickle smears the page.
How Sleep The Brave
© William Taylor Collins
HOW sleep the brave, who sink to rest
By all their country's wishes blest!
When Spring, with dewy fingers cold,
Returns to deck their hallow'd mould,
She there shall dress a sweeter sod
Than Fancy's feet have ever trod.
"How can I keep my maidenhead"
© Robert Burns
How can I keep my maidenhead,
My maidenhead, my maidenhead;
How can I keep my maidenhead,
Among sae mony men, O.
He forgotand Iremembered
© Emily Dickinson
He forgotand Iremembered
'Twas an everyday affair
Long ago as Christ and Peter
"Warmed them" at the "Temple fire."
Here let us live and spend away our lives
© William Ellery Channing
"Here let us live and spend away our lives,"
Said once Fortunio, "while below, absorbed,
Hotel Lautréamont
© John Ashbery
1.
Research has shown that ballads were produced by all of society
working as a team. They didn’t just happen. There was no guesswork.
The people, then, knew what they wanted and how to get it.
We see the results in works as diverse as “Windsor Forest” and “The Wife of Usher’s Well.”
Holy Sonnets: If poisonous minerals, and if that tree
© John Donne
If poisonous minerals, and if that tree
Whose fruit threw death on else immortal us,
Hunting Manual
© Hugo Williams
Look then for the blank card, the sprung trap,
the net’s dissolve, the unburdened
line that swings free in the air.
There. By day, go empty-handed to the hunt
and come home the same way
in the dark.
