Hope poems
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Sonnet XII "What Gossamer Lures Thee Now? What Hope, What Name"
© Henry Timrod
What gossamer lures thee now? What hope, what name
Is on thy lips? What dreams to fruit have grown?
Prologue: The Pleasant Comedy Of Old Fortunatus
© Thomas Dekker
OF Love's sweet war our timorous Muse doth sing,
And to the bosom of each gentle dear,
The Journey Of Life
© William Cullen Bryant
Beneath the waning moon I walk at night,
And muse on human life--for all around
Are dim uncertain shapes that cheat the sight,
And pitfalls lurk in shade along the ground,
And broken gleams of brightness, here and there,
Glance through, and leave unwarmed the death-like air.
The Imprisoned Innocents
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
ONE morning I said to my wife,
Near the time when the heavens are rife
With the Equinoctial strife,
"Arabella, the weather looks ugly as sin!
Ode On Lord Hay's BirthDay
© James Beattie
A Muse, unskill'd in venal praise,
Unstain'd with flattery's art;
Who loves simplicity of lays
Breathed ardent from the heart;
To Englishmen
© John Greenleaf Whittier
You flung your taunt across the wave;
We bore it as became us,
Nocturne
© Rubén Dario
I want to express my anguish in verses that speak
of my vanished youth, a time of dreams and roses,
and the bitter defloration of my life
by many small cares and one vast aching sorrow.
Retrospection
© William Lisle Bowles
I turn these leaves with thronging thoughts, and say,
Alas! how many friends of youth are dead;
Bowed With a Sense of Sin
© Augustus Montague Toplady
Bowed with a sense of sin, I faint
Beneath the complicated load;
Father, attend my deep complaint,
I am Thy creature, Thou my God.
Christmas Song of the Old Children
© George MacDonald
Well for youth to seek the strong,
Beautiful, and brave!
We, the old, who walk along
Gently to the grave,
Only pay our court to thee,
Child of all Eternity!
Girl Graduates
© William Schwenck Gilbert
These are the phenomena
That every pretty domina
Hopes that we shall see
At this Universitee!
SonnetXLVII. To G.W.C.
© Christopher Pearse Cranch
STILL shines our August day, as calm, as bright
As when, long years ago, we sailied away
Down the blue Narrows and the widening bay
Into the wrinkling ocean's flashing light;
Freedom
© Archibald Lampman
Out of the heart of the city begotten
Of the labour of men and their manifold hands,
Whose souls, that were sprung from the earth in her morning,
No longer regard or remember her warning,
Whose hearts in the furnace of care have forgotten
Forever the scent and the hue of her lands;
Hope
© William Dean Howells
We sailed and sailed upon the desert sea
Where for whole days we alone seemed to be.
Love After Sorrow
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Behold, this hour I love, as in the glory of morn.
I too, the accursèd one, whom griefs pursue
Like phantoms through a land of deaths forlorn,
Have felt my heart leap up with courage new.
The Drowned Alive
© Charles Harpur
But what are these down in its bed
That trail so long and look so red,
Moving as in conscious sport?
Are they weeds of curious sort?
But Ill drive to them and see
Into all their mystery.
Morning
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
O GRACIOUS breath of sunrise! divine air!
That brood'st serenely o'er the purpling hills;
O blissful valleys! nestling, cool and fair,
In the fond arms of yonder murmurous rills,
Well! Thou Art Happy
© George Gordon Byron
Well! thou art happy, and I feel
That I should thus be happy too;
For still my heart regards thy weal
Warmly, as it was wont to do.
Elegy On Newstead Abbey
© George Gordon Byron
No mail-clad serfs, obedient to their lord,
In grim array the crimson cross demand;
Or gay assemble round the festive board
Their chief's retainers, an immortal band:
