Hope poems

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here rests

© Paul Celan

my sister Josephine
born july in '29
and dead these 15 years
who carried a book
on every stroll.

II. Elliott In Fort Sumter

© Paul Hamilton Hayne

AND high amongst these chiefs of iron grain,
Large-statured natures, souls of Spartan mien,
Superbly brave, inflexibly serene,
Man of the, stalwart hope, the sleepless brain,

Machinist Talking

© Lesbia Harford

I sit at my machine,
Hour long beside me Vera aged nineteen,
Babbles her sweet and innocent tale of sex.

Often to me who heard you in your day,
With close wrapt ears, it could not choose but seem
That earth, our mother, searching in that way,
Men's hearts might know her spirit's inmost dream,
Ever at rest beneath life's change and stir,
Made you her soul, and bade you pipe for her.

Saint Judas

© James Wright

Banished from heaven, I found this victim beaten,
Stripped, kneed, and left to cry. Dropping my rope
Aside, I ran, ignored the uniforms:
Then I remembered bread my flesh had eaten,
The kiss that ate my flesh. Flayed without hope,
I held the man for nothing in my arms.

Astrophel And Stella-Eighth Song

© Sir Philip Sidney

In a grove most rich of shade,
Where birds wanton music made,
May, then young, his pied weeds showing,
New perfum'd with flowers growing,

The Whole Mess ... Almost

© Gregory Corso

I ran up six flights of stairs
to my small furnished room
opened the window
and began throwing out
those things most important in life

The Child Of The Islands - Summer

© Caroline Norton

I.
FOR Summer followeth with its store of joy;
That, too, can bring thee only new delight;
Its sultry hours can work thee no annoy,

The End

© Mark Strand

Not every man knows what he shall sing at the end,
Watching the pier as the ship sails away, or what it will seem like
When he’s held by the sea’s roar, motionless, there at the end,
Or what he shall hope for once it is clear that he’ll never go back.

The Crystal Lithium

© James Schuyler

The smell of snow, stinging in nostrils as the wind lifts it from a beach

Eve-shuttering, mixed with sand, or when snow lies under the street lamps and on all

Ave, Caesar!

© William Ernest Henley

From the winter's grey despair,
From the summer's golden languor,
Death, the lover of Life,
Frees us for ever.

The Ballad of Reading Gaol

© Oscar Wilde

He walked amongst the Trial Men
In a suit of shabby gray;
A cricket cap was on his head,
And his step seemed light and gay;
But I never saw a man who looked
So wistfully at the day.

Metr: Boetius 1s 1 Quisquis Comp

© Thomas Parnell

The Man whose mind & actions still Sedate

Can bravely triumph ore ye thoughts of fate

Lines Addressed To A.C.,

Nor past, nor future cloud thy brow,
Thy range of thought confin'd to now;
Calm on a mother's breast you lie,
And heed not if, with tearful eye,
For thee her wishes fondly stray
O'er many a New-Year's Day.

The Knight Of Toggenburg

. "I Can love thee well, believe me,

As a sister true;

To-- Oh! there are spirits of the air

Oh! there are spirits of the air,
And genii of the evening breeze,
And gentle ghosts, with eyes as fair
As star-beams among twilight trees:
Such lovely ministers to meet
Oft hast thou turned from men thy lonely feet.

The Candidate

This poem was written in , on occasion of the contest between the

Earls of Hardwicke and Sandwich for the High-stewardship of the

Above The Gaspereau

How still through the sweet summer sun, through the soft summer rain,
They have stood there awaiting the summons should bid them attain
The freedom of knowledge, the last touch of truth to explain
The great golden gist of their brooding, the marvellous train
Of thought they have followed so far, been so strong to sustain,
The white gospel of sun and the long revelations of rain!