Hope poems
/ page 252 of 439 /
Epitaph
© Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Stop, Christian passer-by!Stop, child of God,
And read with gentle breast. Beneath this sod
Ancestor
© James Russell Lowell
It was a time when they were afraid of him.
My father, a bare man, a gypsy, a horse
Fears In Solitude. Written In April, 1798, During The Alarm Of An Invasion
© Samuel Taylor Coleridge
A green and silent spot, amid the hills,
A small and silent dell! O'er stiller place
No singing sky-lark ever poised himself.
The hills are heathy, save that swelling slope,
An Essay on Man: Epistle I
© Alexander Pope
To Henry St. John, Lord Bolingbroke
Awake, my St. John! leave all meaner things
Pygmaeo-gerano-machia: The Battle Of The Pygmies and Cranes
© James Beattie
Nor less th' alarm that shook the world below,
Where march'd in pomp of war th' embattled foe;
Where mannikins with haughty step advance,
And grasp the shield, and couch the quivering lance;
To right and left the lengthening lines they form,
And rank'd in deep array await the storm.
Ghost
© Walter de la Mare
'Who knocks? ' 'I, who was beautiful
Beyond all dreams to restore,
I from the roots of the dark thorn am hither,
And knock on the door.'
Vernal Ode
© William Wordsworth
I
BENEATH the concave of an April sky,
When all the fields with freshest green were dight,
Appeared, in presence of the spiritual eye
What the End Is For
© Jorie Graham
where the heard foams up into the noise of listening,
where the listening arrives without being extinguished.
The huge hum soaks up into the dusk.
The minutes spring open. Six is too many.
From where we watch,
from where even watching is an anachronism,
Rivers Of Canada
© Bliss William Carman
O all the little rivers that run to Hudson's Bay,
They call me and call me to follow them away.
Missinaibi, Abitibi, Little Current-whe re they run
Dancing and sparkling I see them in the sun.
Ormuzd And Ahriman. Part II
© Christopher Pearse Cranch
Fear not, for ye shall live if ye receive
The life divine, obedient to the law
Of truth and good. So shall there be no frown
Upon his face who wills the good of all.
Confiteor
© Adam Lindsay Gordon
The shore-boat lies in the morning light,
By the good ship ready for sailing;
To Mr. [S.T.] C[oleridge]
© Bliss William Carman
Midway the hill of science, after steep
And rugged paths that tire the unpractised feet,
Medea in Athens
© Augusta Davies Webster
Dimly I recall
some prophecy a god breathed by my mouth.
It could not err. What was it? For I think;-
it told his death¹.
The Affliction of Richard
© John Hall Wheelock
Love not too much. But how,
When thou hast made me such,
