Poems begining by H
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How The Cat Was Belled
© Carolyn Wells
The poor rats were at their wits' end
Their homes and families to defend;
And as a last resort
They took the case to court.
Hudibras: Part 2 - Canto III
© Samuel Butler
Doubtless the pleasure is as great
Of being cheated as to cheat;
As lookers-on feel most delight,
That least perceive a jugler's slight;
And still the less they understand,
The more th' admire his slight of hand.
His Answer To "Her Letter"
© Francis Bret Harte
(REPORTED BY TRUTHFUL JAMES)
Being asked by an intimate party,--
How Fear Came
© Rudyard Kipling
The stream is shrunk-the pool is dry,
And we be comrades, thou and I;
Hunting Song of the Seeonee Pack
© Rudyard Kipling
As the dawn was breaking the Sambhur belled
Once, twice, and again!
And a doe leaped up - and a doe leaped up
From the pond in the wood where the wild deer sup.
This I, scouting alone, beheld,
Once, twice, and again!
Hermann And Dorothea - IV. Euterpe
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
"Mother," he said in confusion:--"You greatly surprise me!" and quickly
Wiped he away his tears, the noble and sensitive youngster.
"What! You are weeping, my son?" the startled mother continued
"That is indeed unlike you! I never before saw you crying!
Say, what has sadden'd your heart? What drives you to sit here all lonely
Under the shade of the pear-tree? What is it that makes you unhappy?"
His Lady Of The Sonnets VI
© Robert Norwood
And I have trembled with those ancient stars,
My heart has known the flame-winged seraphs' song;
For no indifferent, dreamy eyelid bars
Me from the blue, nor veils with lashes long
Your love, that to my tender gazing grows
Bold to confess it: I am glad he knows!
He Wonders Whether To Praise Or To Blame Her
© Rupert Brooke
I have peace to weigh your worth, now all is over,
But if to praise or blame you, cannot say.
For, who decries the loved, decries the lover;
Yet what man lauds the thing he's thrown away?
Happiness
© Louise Gluck
A man and a woman lie on a white bed.
It is morning. I think
Soon they will waken.
On the bedside table is a vase
Horse
© Louise Gluck
I watch you when you are alone,
When you ride into the field behind the dairy,
Your hands buried in the mare's
Dark mane.
Hypochondriac
© Chris Tusa
Maybe its Emphysema, a shiny black jewel of phlegm
humming like a clump of bees in my chest.
Perhaps a tumor crawling in the crook of my armpit,
a blood clot opening like a tiny red flower in my brain.
Hinged To Forgetfulness Like A Door
© Richard Brautigan
Hinged to forgetfulness
like a door,
she slowly closed out of
sight,
Having slept, the cat gets up
© Kobayashi Issa
Having slept, the cat gets up,
yawns, goes out
to make love.
Halloween
© Mac Hammond
The butcher knife goes in, first, at the top
And carves out the round stemmed lid,
The hole of which allows the hand to go
In to pull the gooey mess inside, out -
Has My Heart Gone To Sleep?
© Antonio Machado
Has my heart gone to sleep?
Have the beehives of my dreams
stopped working, the waterwheel
of the mind run dry,
scoops turning empty,
only shadow inside?
House On A Cliff
© Louis MacNeice
Indoors the tang of a tiny oil lamp. Outdoors
The winking signal on the waste of sea.
Indoors the sound of the wind. Outdoors the wind.
Indoors the locked heart and the lost key.
