Hope poems
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A Wedding March
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Clash your cymbals, maids, to--day.
Chaunt the praise of Cynthia.
You, her virgins, yokeless, free,
Young Time's choice, his brides--to--be.
The Labourer
© George Meredith
For a Heracles in his fighting ire there is never the glory that
follows
Sixth Sunday After Trinity
© John Keble
When bitter thoughts, of conscience born,
With sinners wake at morn,
Giving Thanks
© Stefan Anton George
The summer field is parched with evil fire,
And from a shoreland trail of trodden clover
Victoria Regina
© Sir Henry Newbolt
A thousand years by sea and land
Our race hath served the island kings,
But not by custom's dull command
To-day with song her Empire rings:
The Old Year
© Christopher Pearse Cranch
O good old Year! this night's your last.
And must you go? With you I've passed
Some days that bear revision.
For these I'd thank you, ere you make
When the Ladies Come to the Shearing Shed
© Henry Lawson
THE LADIES are coming, the super says
To the shearers sweltering there,
Hay
© Ted Hughes
The grass is happy
To run like the sea, to be glossed like a minks fur
By polishing wind.
Her heart is the weather.
She loves nobody
Least of all the farmer who leans on the gate.
Isabella; Or, The Pot Of Basil: A Story From Boccaccio
© John Keats
I.
Fair Isabel, poor simple Isabel!
Hope Is Not For The Wise
© Robinson Jeffers
Hope is not for the wise, fear is for fools;
Change and the world, we think, are racing to a fall,
Fatigue
© Amy Lowell
Give me dreamless sleep, and loose night's power over me,
Shut my ears to sounds only tumultuous then,
Bid Fancy slumber, and steal away its potency,
Or Nature wakes and strives to live again.
Stanzas
© George Gordon Byron
Could Love for ever
Run like a river,
And Time's endeavour
Be tried in vain
Womans Love
© Frances Anne Kemble
A maiden meek, with solemn, steadfast eyes,
Full of eternal constancy and faith,
Jump-To-Glory Jane
© George Meredith
A revelation came on Jane,
The widow of a labouring swain:
And first her body trembled sharp,
Then all the woman was a harp
With winds along the strings; she heard,
Though there was neither tone nor word.
Tentacles of Time
© Kabir
The Saints Have Died, The God-Messengers Die
The Life-Filled Yogis Die Too |
The Kings Die, The Subjects Die
The Healers and the Sick Die Too ||
The Brothers
© Madison Julius Cawein
Not far from here, it lies beyond
That low-hilled belt of woods. We'll take
This unused lane where brambles make
A wall of twilight, and the blond
Brier-roses pelt the path and flake
The margin waters of a pond.
The Tower Beyond Tragedy
© Robinson Jeffers
I
You'd never have thought the Queen was Helen's sister- Troy's
Celia To Damon
© Matthew Prior
What can I say? What Arguments can prove
My Truth? What Colors can describe my Love?
If it's Excess and Fury be not known,
In what Thy Celia has already done?
