Poems begining by H
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He Gave Me No Meat
© Jones Very
My brother, I am hungry,give me food
Such as my Father gives me at his board;
Henry James At The Pacific
© Donald Justice
-- Coronado Beach, California, March, 1905
In a hotel room by the sea, the Master
Hudibras - The Lady's Answer to The Knight
© Samuel Butler
We are your guardians, that increase
Or waste your fortunes how we please;
And, as you humour us, can deal
In all your matters, ill or well.
Hylas
© André Marie de Chénier
Mais Alcide inquiet, que presse un noir augure,
Va, vient, le cherche, crie auprès de l'onde pure:
'Hylas! Hylas!' Il crie et mille et mille fois.
Le jeune enfant de loin croit entendre sa voix;
Et du fond des roseaux, pour le tirer de peine,
Lui répond une voix non entendue et vaine.
Honour Dishonoured
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
To--night, unwelcomed at these gates of woe
I stand with churls, and there is none to greet
My weariness with smile or courtly show
Nor, though I hunger long, to bring me meat.
God! what a little accident of gold
Fences our weakness from the wolves of old!
His Mother's Way
© James Whitcomb Riley
Tomps 'ud allus haf to say
Somepin' 'bout "his mother's way."--
Heartsease In My Garden Bed
© Christina Georgina Rossetti
Heartsease in my garden bed,
With sweetwilliam white and red,
Hokku Poems in Four Seasons
© Yosa Buson
The year's first poem done,
with smug self confidence
a haikai poet.
HMS Pinafore: Act I
© William Schwenck Gilbert
SCENE - Quarter-deck of H.M.S. Pinafore. Sailors, led by
Boatswain, discovered cleaning brasswork, splicing rope, etc.
Homeward Going
© Roderic Quinn
GRAY smoke in the green leaves,
Someone homeward going,
No sound in the lone hills . . .
Only cattle lowing.
Her Letter
© Francis Bret Harte
I'm sitting alone by the fire,
Dressed just as I came from the dance,
"How Did You Rest, Last Night?"
© James Whitcomb Riley
"How did you rest, last night?"--
I've heard my gran'pap say
Hem And Haw
© Bliss William Carman
Hem and Haw were the sons of sin,
Created to shally and shirk;
Hem lay 'round and Haw looked on
While God did all the work.
Horatian Epode To The Duchess Of Malfi
© Allen Tate
Duchess: Who am I?
Bosola: Thou art a box of worm-seed, at best but a
salvatory of green mummy.
His Visitor
© Thomas Hardy
I come across from Mellstock while the moon wastes weaker
To behold where I lived with you for twenty years and more:
I shall go in the gray, at the passing of the mail-train,
And need no setting open of the long familiar door
As before.
