Hope poems

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OBIIT MDCCCXXXIII (Entire)

© Alfred Tennyson

Thou wilt not leave us in the dust:
Thou madest man, he knows not why,
He thinks he was not made to die;
And thou hast made him: thou art just.

Sympathy

© Edgar Albert Guest

One came to the house with a pretty speech:
"It's all for the best," said he,
And I know that he sought my heart to reach,
And I know that he grieved with me.

The Hottentot

© Thomas Pringle

Mild, melancholy, and sedate, he stands,

Tending another's flock upon the fields,

Etheline

© Henry Kendall

The heart that once was rich with light,

And happy in your grace,

The Mothers Secret

© Oliver Wendell Holmes

But Mary, faithful to its lightest word,
Kept in her heart the sayings she had heard,
Till the dread morning rent the Temple's veil,
And shuddering earth confirmed the wondrous tale.

Builders Of Ruins

© Alice Meynell

We build with strength and deep tower wall
That shall be shattered thus and thus.
And fair and great are court and hall,
But how fair-this is not for us,
Who know the lack that lurks in all.

Corfu

© Richard Monckton Milnes

Thou pleasant Island, whose rich garden--shores
Have had a long--lived fame of loveliness,
Recorded in the historic song, that framed
The unknown Poet of an unknown time,

The chaplain, with a father's gentlest grace,
Kissed the small ruffled brow, the pleading face:
"Out of the mouths of babes and sucklings still,
Praise is perfected," thought he; thus, his will
Blended with hers, and through those gates of sin,
Black, even at noontide, sire and child passed in.

Ormuzd And Ahriman. The Overture.

© Christopher Pearse Cranch

Ah, what are all the discords of all time
But stumbling steps of one persistent life
That struggles up through mists to heights sublime
Forefelt through all creation's lingering strife:
The deathless motion of one undertone,
Whose deep vibrations thrill from God to God alone!

In The Mist

© Paul Hamilton Hayne

MORE fearful grows the hillside way,
The gloom no softening breeze hath kissed!
I glance far upward to the day,
But scarce can catch one faltering ray
From out the mist!

Dorothy D.

© Wilcox Ella Wheeler

I'm sick of "musn'ts," said Dorothy D.
Sick of musn'ts, as I can be.
From early dawn till the close of day
I hear a musn't, and never a may.

An Hymne In Honour Of Love

© Edmund Spenser

Why then do I this honor unto thee,
Thus to ennoble thy victorious name,
Sith thou doest shew no favour unto mee,
Ne once move ruth in that rebellious dame,

The Legend of La Brea

Down beside the loathly Pitch Lake,
In the stately Morichal,
Sat an ancient Spanish Indian,
Peering through the columns tall.

True Confession

1

Today, recovering from influenza,

Fit The Third - The Baker's Tale

There was silence supreme! Not a shriek, not a scream,
Scarcely even a howl or a groan,
As the man they called "Ho!" told his story of woe
In an antediluvian tone.

Afterglow

A magic wrought of dying dreams
A wizard light that creeps and glows;
Painting grey hills and sluggish streams
In tints of gold and rose

My Mother

God made my mother on an April day,
From sorrow and the mist along the sea,
Lost birds' and wanderers' songs and ocean spray,
And the moon loved her wandering jealously.