Hope poems
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The Mask Of Anarchy
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
I.
As I lay asleep in Italy
There came a voice from over the Sea,
And with great power it forth led me
To walk in the visions of Poesy.
Rosamund
© Jean Ingelow
I dwell where England narrows running north;
And while our hay was cut came rumours up
Humming and swarming round our heads like bees:
His Monument
© Sarah Knowles Bolton
He built a house, time laid it in the dust;
He wrote a book, its title now forgot;
He ruled a city, but his name is not
On any tablet graven, or where rust
Can gather from disuse, or marble bust.
Dedication
© John Keble
When in my silent solitary walk,
I sought a strain not all unworthy Thee,
My heart, still ringing with wild worldly talk,
Gave forth no note of holier minstrelsy.
Beauty: [Notes for an unfinished poem]
© Wilfred Owen
The beautiful, the fair, the elegant,
Is that which pleases us, says Kant,
Without a thought of interest or advantage.
Doubt Heralding Vision
© George MacDonald
An angel saw me sitting by a brook,
Pleased with the silence, and the melodies
Songs of the Summer Days
© George MacDonald
A glory on the chamber wall!
A glory in the brain!
Triumphant floods of glory fall
On heath, and wold, and plain.
The Death of Pompey the Great
© Alaric Alexander Watts
States vanish, ages fly;
But leave one task unchangedâto suffer and to die. ~ HEMANS.
The Two Angels
© John Greenleaf Whittier
God called the nearest angels who dwell with Him above:
The tenderest one was Pity, the dearest one was Love.
Riding Round the Lines
© Henry Lawson
Dust and smoke against the sunrise out where grim disaster lurks
And a broken sky-line looming like unfinished railway works,
And a trot, trot, trot and canter down inside the belt of mines:
It is General Greybeard Shrapnel who is riding round his lines.
The Gold-Seekers
© Hamlin Garland
I SAW these dreamers of dreams go by,
I trod in their footsteps a space;
Each marched with his eyes on the sky,
Each passed with a light on his face.
Hudibras: Part 1 - Canto III
© Samuel Butler
Quoth RALPHO, Truly that is no
Hard matter for a man to do,
That has but any guts in 's brains,
And cou'd believe it worth his pains;
But since you dare and urge me to it,
You'll find I've light enough to do it.
Guy Of The Temple
© John Hay
Night hangs above the valley; dies the day
In peace, casting his last glance on my cross,
And warns me to my prayers. _Ave Maria!
Mother of God! the evening fades
On wave and hill and lea_,
The Gypsy
© Guillaume Apollinaire
The gypsy knew in advance
Our two lives star-crossed by night
We said farewell to her and then
from that deep well Hope began
Satire I
© John Donne
Away thou fondling motley humorist,
Leave mee, and in this standing woodden chest,
Celebration Of Peace
© Friedrich Hölderlin
The holy, familiar hall, built long ago,
Is aired, and filled with heavenly,
