Hope poems
/ page 179 of 439 /
The Bread Of Angels
© Edith Wharton
At last, upon my wonder drawn, I followed
The secret wanderers till I saw them pause
Before the dying glare of those tall panes
Where greed and surfeit nodded face to face
O'er the picked bones of pleasure . . .
And the door opened and the nuns went in.
Sonnet: I Muse Over
© Dante Alighieri
At whiles (yea oftentimes) I muse over
The quality of anguish that is mine
Daffodils
© William Henry Ogilvie
Ho! You there, selling daffodils along the windy street,
Poor drooping, dusty daffodils - but oh! so Summer sweet!
Green stems that stab with loveliness, rich petal-cups to hold
The wine of Spring to lips that cling like bees about their gold!
Craven-Heart
© Ada Cambridge
Those anguished voices in the air!
Oh, I could shriek and tear my hair
In rage, rebellion and despair.
The Love Sonnets Of Proteus. Part II: To Juliet: XXV
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
THE SAME CONTINUED
Give me thy kiss, Juliet, give me thy kiss!
I with my body worship thee and vow
Such service to thy needs as man can do.
The Shepheardes Calender: December
© Edmund Spenser
I thee beseche (so be thou deigne to heare,
Rude ditties tund to shepheards Oaten reede,
Or if I euer sonet song so cleare,
As it with pleasaunce mought thy fancie feede)
Hearken awhile from thy greene cabinet,
The rurall song of carefull Colinet.
The First-Born
© Alaric Alexander Watts
Never did music sink into my soul
So âsilver sweet,â as when thy first weak wail
An Epistle To Dr. Moore
© Helen Maria Williams
Whether dispensing hope, and ease
To the pale victim of disease,
Or in the social crowd you sit,
And charm the group with sense and wit,
Moore's partial ear will not disdain
Attention to my artless strain.
In Oblivion
© Peter McArthur
COME, friend, there's going to be a merry meeting
After the play. Our masks we'll throw aside,
The Wild Colonial Boy
© Anonymous
'Tis of a wild Colonial Boy, Jack Doolan was his name,
Of poor but honest parents he was born in Castlemaine.
He was his father's only hope, his mother's pride and joy,
And dearly did his parents love the wild Colonial Boy.
The Worlds Exile
© Richard Monckton Milnes
Well, I will tell you, kind adviser,
Why thus I ever roam
In distant lands, nor wish to guide
My footsteps to the fair hill--side
Where stands my sacred home.
A Portrait.
© Arthur Henry Adams
HER glance is equable, serene;
She looks at life with level brow;
She strides through circumstance a queen!
To compromise she cannot bow
Fine
© Edgar Albert Guest
Isn't it fine when the day is done,
And the petty battles are lost or won,
When the gold is made and the ink is dried,
To quit the struggle and turn aside
To spend an hour with your boy in play,
And let him race all of your cares away?
My Love.
© Arthur Henry Adams
SHE has tender eyes that tell
All her prim, set lips suppress
Daring thoughts that ever dwell
Prisoned in her bashfulness;
Night Song Of A Wandering Shepherd In Asia
© Giacomo Leopardi
What doest thou in heaven, O moon?
Say, silent moon, what doest thou?
On Receiving An Eagle's Quill From Lake Superior
© John Greenleaf Whittier
All day the darkness and the cold
Upon my heart have lain,
Like shadows on the winter sky,
Like frost upon the pane;
Allegra
© James Russell Lowell
I would more natures were like thine,
That never casts a glance before,
Thou Hebe, who thy heart's bright wine
So lavishly to all dost pour,
That we who drink forget to pine,
And can but dream of bliss in store.
To My Mother
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
Than all the diamond's crystal rays,
Than all the emerald's lucid blaze;
And joys of heav'n would thrill thy heart,
To bid one bosom-grief depart,
One tear, one sorrow cease!
