Hope poems
/ page 160 of 439 /Upon the Kings happy return from Scotland
© Henry King
So breaks the day when the returning Sun
Hath newly through his Winter Tropick run,
As You (Great Sir!) in this regress come forth
From the remoter Climate of the North.
A Hymn
© Helen Maria Williams
While thee I seek, protecting Power!
Be my vain wishes still'd;
And may this consecrated hour
With better hopes be fill'd.
The Bartholdi Statue
© John Greenleaf Whittier
The land, that, from the rule of kings,
In freeing us, itself made free,
Our Old World Sister, to us brings
Her sculptured Dream of Liberty,
Appeal To Nature Of The Solitary Heart
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
DEAR mother, take me to thy breast!
I have no other place of rest
In all this weary world of men:
Ah! fold me in thy love again,
Sweet mother; clasp me to thy breast!
A Retrospect
© Frances Anne Kemble
Life wanes, and the bright sunlight of our youth
Sets o'er the mountain-tops, where once Hope stood.
The Progress Of A Divine: Satire
© Richard Savage
All priests are not the same, be understood!
Priests are, like other folks, some bad, some good.
What's vice or virtue, sure admits no doubt;
Then, clergy, with church mission, or without;
When good, or bad, annex we to your name,
The greater honour, or the greater shame.
Zellen Woones Honey To Buy Zomehat Sweet
© William Barnes
Why, his heart's lik' a popple, so hard as a stwone,
Vor 'tis money, an' money's his ho,
Disenchantment Of Death
© Madison Julius Cawein
Hush! She is dead! Tread gently as the light
Foots dim the weary room. Thou shalt behold.
Look:--In death's ermine pomp of awful white,
Pale passion of pulseless slumber virgin cold:
Bold, beautiful youth proud as heroic Might--
Death! and how death hath made it vastly old.
Youth And Manhood
© Henry Timrod
Another year! a short one, if it flow
Like that just past,
And I shall stand - if years can make me so -
A man at last.
Ovid. Trist. Lib. V. Elegy XII.
© William Cowper
You bid me write to amuse the tedious hours,
And save from withering my poetic powers;
Battle Song
© Patrick Barrington
There's havoc on the staircase where the guests come streaming,
Shirt-fronts shining and tiaras gleaming,
Meditations Upon The Peep Of Day
© John Bunyan
Soft, though it be peep of day, don't know
Whether 'tis night, whether 'tis day or no.
The Prison Bell
© Owen Suffolk
Hark to the bell of sorrow! - 'tis awak'ning up again
Each broken spirit from its brief forgetfulness of pain.
Gautama Christ
© Pablo Neruda
The names of God and especially those of His representative
Who is called Jesus or Christ according to holy books and
April
© Charlotte Turner Smith
GREEN o'er the copses spring's soft hues are spreading,
High wave the reeds in the transparent floods,
The oak its sear and sallow foliage shedding,
From their moss'd cradles start its infant buds.
The Silent Victors
© James Whitcomb Riley
Dying for victory, cheer on cheer
Thundered on his eager ear.
--CHARLES L. HOLSTEIN.
Fragment: To A Friend Released From Prison
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
For me, my friend, if not that tears did tremble
In my faint eyes, and that my heart beat fast
With feelings which make rapture pain resemble,
Yet, from thy voice that falsehood starts aghast,
The Resurrection
© John Crowe Ransom
LONG, long before men die I sometimes read
Their stoic backs as plain as graveyard stones,