Hope poems

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St. Luke

© John Keble

Two clouds before the summer gale
  In equal race fleet o'er the sky:
Two flowers, when wintry blasts assail,
  Together pins, together die.

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Once Gods Walked...

© Friedrich Hölderlin

Once gods walked among humans,
The splendid Muses and youthful Apollo
Inspired and healed us, just like you.
And you are to me as if one of the Holy Ones

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Accolon Of Gaul: Part I

© Madison Julius Cawein

  "Will love grow less when dead the roguish Spring,
  Who from gay eyes sowed violets whispering;
  Peach petals in wild cheeks, wan-wasted thro'
  Of withering grief, laid lovely 'neath the dew,
  Will love grow less?

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Fragments Supposed To Be Parts Of Otho

© Percy Bysshe Shelley

II.
Dark is the realm of grief: but human things
Those may not know who cannot weep for them.
...

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Thoughts on Predestination and Reprobation : Part I.

© John Byrom

Flatter me not with your Predestination,
Nor sink my spirits with your Reprobation.
From all your high disputes I stand aloof,
Your Pres and Res, your Destiny, and your Proof;
And formal Calvinistical pretence,
That contradicts all Gospel, and good sense.

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The Garden of Prosperine

© Algernon Charles Swinburne

From too much love of living,
From hope and fear set free,
We thank with brief thanksgiving
Whatever gods may be That no life lives for ever;

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My Lady Nature and her Daughters

© John Henry Newman

Bird and beast of every sort
Hath its antic and its sport;
Chattering brook, and dancing gnat,
Subtle cry of evening bat,
Moss uncouth, and twigs grotesque,
These are Nature's picturesque.

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The Battle of Life

© Owen Suffolk

Up! and arm for life's struggle,

We shall conquer in the fight,

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Nathan The Wise - Act II

© Gotthold Ephraim Lessing

  But out of my dilemma
'Tis not so easy to escape unhurt.
Well, you must have the knight.

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Sure Hit Songwriter’s Pen

© Sheldon Allan Silverstein

Now I was hangin' round Nashville writin' songs and playin' 'em for all of the stars
Watchin' 'em laugh and hand 'em back livin' on hope and Hershey bars
So I pawned my guitar and bought a ticket home and I's headin' for the Trailway bus
When I seen an old fountain pen laying in the gutter so I stopped and picked it up

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An Heroic Epistle of Hudibras To His Lady

© Samuel Butler

I who was once as great as Caesar,

Am now reduc'd to Nebuchadnezzar;

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Siste Viator

© Augusta Davies Webster

WHAT is it that is dead?
Somewhere there is a grave, and something lies
Cold in the ground, and stirs not for my sighs,
 Nor songs that I can make, nor smiles from me,
Nor tenderest foolish words that I have said;
 Something that was has hushed, and will not be.

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To My Readers

© Oliver Wendell Holmes

NAY, blame me not; I might have spared
Your patience many a trivial verse,
Yet these my earlier welcome shared,
So, let the better shield the worse.

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Composed By The Sea-Side, Near Calais, August 1802

© William Wordsworth

FAIR Star of evening, Splendour of the west,
Star of my Country!--on the horizon's brink
Thou hangest, stooping, as might seem, to sink
On England's bosom; yet well pleased to rest,

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Seventh Sunday After Trinity

© John Keble

Go not away, thou weary soul:
  Heaven has in store a precious dole
Here on Bethsaida's cold and darksome height,
  Where over rocks and sands arise
  Proud Sirion in the northern skies,
And Tabor's lonely peak, 'twixt thee and noonday light.

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"Below The Sunset’s Range Of Rose"

© Madison Julius Cawein

Below the sunset's range of rose,
Below the heaven's deepening blue,
Down woodways where the balsam blows,
And milkweed tufts hang, gray with dew,
A Jersey heifer stops and lows-
The cows come home by one, by two.

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The Golden Legend: V. A Covered Bridge At Lucerne

© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

  _Prince Henry_  The grim musician
Leads all men through the mazes of that dance,
To different sounds in different measures moving;
Sometimes he plays a lute, sometimes a drum,
To tempt or terrify.

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Freedom

© Nikolay Alekseyevich Nekrasov

Oft through my native land I roved before,

But never such a cheerful spirit bore.

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Names And Faces

© Edgar Albert Guest

I do not ask a store of wealth,

  Nor special gift of power;

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The Grand Question Debated: Whether Hamilton’s Bawn Should Be Turned Into A Barrack Or Malt-House

© Jonathan Swift

Thus spoke to my lady the knight full of care,
"Let me have your advice in a weighty affair.
This Hamilton's bawn, while it sticks in my hand
I lose by the house what I get by the land;