Hope poems
/ page 178 of 439 /
From A City Window
© Margaret Elizabeth Sangster
For somewhere, dear, there's a magic land
On the shores of a silver sea;
And there is a boat with turquoise sails -
With sails that are wide and free;
A boat that is whirling through the spray,
That is coming for you and me!
To Mrs. Professor In Defense Of My Cat's Honor And Not Only
© Czeslaw Milosz
My valiant helper, a small-sized tiger
Sleeps sweetly on my desk, by the computer,
Unaware that you insult his tribe.
As By Fire
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
Sometimes I feel so passionate a yearning
For spiritual perfection here below,
This vigorous frame, with healthful fervor burning,
Seems my determined foe,
The Shipwrecked Sailor
© Harry Kemp
There blossomed into golden day another rosy morn:
The ship-wrecked sailor woke, and watched again, of hope forlorn,
From his high, purple-misted peak, a rag about his hip:
His only dream, his native land - his only prayer, a ship!
Homer's Battle Of The Frogs And Mice. Book II
© Thomas Parnell
When rosy-finger'd Morn had ting'd the Clouds,
Around their Monarch-Mouse the Nation crouds,
Slow rose the Monarch, heav'd his anxious Breast,
And thus, the Council fill'd with Rage, addrest.
To Octavia, the Infant Daughter of the Late John Larking, esq.
© Alaric Alexander Watts
Full many a gloomy month hath passed,
On flagging wing, regardless by,
The Princess: A Medley: Tears, Idle Tears
© Alfred Tennyson
Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean,
Tears from the depth of some divine despair
Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes,
In looking on the happy Autumn-fields,
And thinking of the days that are no more.
Suche Waiwarde Waies Hath Love That Moste Parte In Discorde
© Henry Howard
Suche waiwarde waies hath love that moste parte in discorde;
Our willes do stand wherby our hartes but seldom dooth accorde.
"Six years, six cycles of dead hours"
© Richard Monckton Milnes
Six years, six cycles of dead hours,
Six falls of leaves, six births of flowers!
It is not that, you know full well,
That makes my labouring bosom swell,
The Pleasures of Imagination: Book The First
© Mark Akenside
With what attractive charms this goodly frame
Of nature touches the consenting hearts
In Memoriam
© Ralph Waldo Emerson
Yet not of these I muse
In this ancestral place,
But of a kindred face
That never joy or hope shall here diffuse.
A Hymn
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
Lead gently, Lord, and slow,
For oh, my steps are weak,
And ever as I go,
Some soothing sentence speak;
The Woman of Whom Satan Had Bound
© George MacDonald
For years eighteen she, patient soul,
Her eyes had graveward sent;
Her earthly life was lapt in dole,
She was so bowed and bent.
The Magdalen At The Madonnas Shrine
© Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
O Madonna, pure and holy,
From sins dark stain ever free,
The Judgement of Hercules
© William Shenstone
Wrapp'd in a pleased suspense, the youth survey'd
The various charms of each attractive maid:
Alternate each he view'd, and each admired,
And found, alternate, varying flames inspired:
Quick o'er their forms his eyes with pleasure ran,
When she, who first approach'd him, first began:-
