Hope poems
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The Past
© Charles Harpur
And hope herself admits: To thee
But a darkening scene
Only slow days of care and doubt,
Only a dreary lengthening out,
Of what this later past hath been.
The Columbiad: Book III
© Joel Barlow
His eldest hope, young Rocha, at his call,
Resigns his charge within the temple wall;
In whom began, with reverend forms of awe,
The functions grave of priesthood and of law,
Astraea
© John Greenleaf Whittier
"Jove means to settle
Astraea in her seat again,
And let down his golden chain
An age of better metal."
Ben Johnson 1615
Sonnet XXIII. By The Same. To The North Star.
© Charlotte Turner Smith
TO thy bright beams I turn my swimming eyes,
Fair, favourite planet, which in happier days
Saw my young hopes, ah, faithless hopes!--arise,
And on my passion shed propitious rays.
The Martyrs
© Archibald Lampman
Yet still across life's tangled storms we see,
Following the cross, your pale procession led,
One hope, one end, all others sacrificed,
Self-abnegation, love, humility,
Your faces shining toward the bended head,
The wounded hands and patient feet of Christ.
Threnodia Augustalis: Overture - A Solemn Dirge
© Oliver Goldsmith
ARISE, ye sons of worth, arise,
And waken every note of woe;
When truth and virtue reach the skies,
'Tis ours to weep the want below!
To the Rev. John Saunders on his Departure for England
© Charles Harpur
If a large love of the whole human race,
With charity that hopeth a meet cure
The Vision Of Piers Plowman - Part 06
© William Langland
"This were a wikkede wey but whoso hadde a gyde
That [myghte] folwen us ech a foot' - thus this folk hem mened.
April Night
© Archibald Lampman
Ah, soon, the teeming triumph! At my feet
The river with its stately sweep and wheel
Moves on slow-motioned, luminous, gray like steel.
From fields far off whose watery hollows gleam,
Aye with blown throats that make the long hours sweet,
The sleepless toads are murmuring in their dreams.
Spring And Autumn
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
The apple blossom from the bough is falling
In sunshine hours, the long young days of summer,
Elegy
© James Beattie
Tired with the busy crowds, that all the day
Impatient throng where Folly's altars flame,
My languid powers dissolve with quick decay,
Till genial Sleep repair the sinking frame.
Pa And The Monthly Bills
© Edgar Albert Guest
When Ma gets out the monthly bills and sets them all in front of Dad,
She makes us children run away because she knows he may get mad;
An' then she smiles a bit and says: "I hope you will not fuss and fret--
There's nothing here except the things I absolutely had to get!"
An' Pa he looks 'em over first. "The things you had to have!" says he;
"I s'pose that we'd have died without that twenty dollar longeree."
The Snowdrop In The Snow
© Sydney Thompson Dobell
O full of Faith! The Earth is rock,-the Heaven
The dome of a great palace all of ice,
To Any Member Of My Generation
© George Barker
Whenever we kissed we cocked the future's rifles
And from our wild-oat words, like dragon's teeth,
Death underfoot now arises; when we were gay
Dancing together in what we hoped was life,
Who was it in our arms but the whores of death
Whom we have found in our beds today, today?
Song II
© Mikolaj Sep Szarzynski
Why flatter thyself, Tyrant,
In ways great in evil?
The Lord's goodness ceases not
Keeping watch on the pious.
Nature
© James Beattie
O how canst thou renounce the boundless store
Of charms which Nature to her votary yields!
Is It Well?
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
Saw you the youth, with the face like the morning,
Refilling the glass, that foamed white as the sea?
