Poems begining by H
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Healed Of My Hurt
© Herman Melville
Healed of my hurt, I laud the inhuman Sea-
Yea, bless the Angels Four that there convene;
For healed I am even by the pitiless breath
Distilled in wholesome dew named rosmarine.
How A Fisherman Corked Up His Foe In A Jar
© Guy Wetmore Carryl
The Moral: When fortune you strike,
And you've slipped through a dangerous crack,
Get as forward as ever you like,
But never, oh, never get back!
Homage To Sextus Propertius - I
© Ezra Pound
Flame burns, rain sinks into the cracks
And they all go to rack ruin beneath the thud of the years.
Stands genius a deathless adornment,
a name not to be worn out with the years.
Halcyon Days
© Thomas Shadwell
Halcyon days, now wars are ending.
You shall find where-e'er you sail
Tritons all the while attending
With a kind and gentle gale.
He comes
© Yehudah HaLevi
He comes, O bliss!
Fly swiftly, you winds,
You odorous breezes,
And tell him how long
I've waited for this!
House and Man
© Edward Thomas
He waved good-bye to hide
A sigh that he converted to a laugh.
He seemed to hang rather than stand there, half
Ghost-like, half like a beggar's rag, clean wrung
And useless on the brier where it has hung
Long years a-washing by sun and wind and rain.
Here The Frailest Leaves Of Me
© Walt Whitman
HERE the frailest leaves of me, and yet my strongest-lasting:
Here I shade and hide my thoughts-I myself do not expose them,
And yet they expose me more than all my other poems.
Heroes
© Emma Lazarus
In rich Virginian woods,
The scarlet creeper reddens over graves,
Among the solemn trees enlooped with vines;
Heroic spirits haunt the solitudes,-
The noble souls of half a million braves,
Amid the murmurous pines.
His Boat
© Gaius Valerius Catullus
This boat you see, friends, will tell you
that she was the fastest of craft,
Haunted
© Edith Nesbit
THE house is haunted; when the little feet
Go pattering about it in their play,
I tremble lest the little one should meet
The ghosts that haunt the happy night and day.
How The Women Went From Dover
© John Greenleaf Whittier
THE tossing spray of Cocheco's fall
Hardened to ice on its rocky wall,
As through Dover town in the chill, gray dawn,
Three women passed, at the cart-tail drawn!
Hunger
© Robert Laurence Binyon
I come among the peoples like a shadow.
I sit down by each man's side.
Homage To Sextus Propertius - VI
© Ezra Pound
You will follow the bare scarified breast
Nor will you be weary of calling my name, nor too weary
To place the last kiss on my lips
When the Syrian onyx is broken.
He had his Dream
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
He had his dream, and all through life,
Worked up to it through toil and strife.
HERE I sit with my paper
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
HERE I sit with my paper, my pen my ink,
First of this thing, and that thing,
Home And The Office
© Edgar Albert Guest
Home is the place where the laughter should ring,
And man should be found at his best.
Hymn For The House Of Worship At Georgetown, Erected In Memory Of A Mother
© John Greenleaf Whittier
Thou dwellest not, O Lord of all
In temples which thy children raise;
Our work to thine is mean and small,
And brief to thy eternal days.
