Hope poems
/ page 254 of 439 /
Pauline, A Fragment of a Question
© Robert Browning
And I can love nothing-and this dull truth
Has come the last: but sense supplies a love
Encircling me and mingling with my life.
On Bishop Atterbury's Burying The Duke Of Buckingham, 1721
© Matthew Prior
I have no hopes, the Duke he says, and dies.
In sure and certain hopes - the prelate cries:
To the Consolations of Philosophy
© William Stanley Merwin
I know you will say
I have said that before
I know you have been
there all along somewhere
in another time zone
Forward Ho!
© Charles Harpur
Forward ho! Forward ho! Soldiers of liberty,
Hope on; fight on; till mans whole race shall be
The Healer
© John Greenleaf Whittier
So stood of old the holy Christ
Amidst the suffering throng;
With whom His lightest touch sufficed
To make the weakest strong.
For Una
© Robinson Jeffers
I built her a tower when I was young—
Sometime she will die—
I built it with my hands, I hung
Stones in the sky.
Sonnet 64: No More, My Dear
© Sir Philip Sidney
No more, my dear, no more these counsels try;
Oh, give my passions leave to run their race;
Second Love
© Henry Timrod
Could I reveal the secret joy
Thy presence always with it brings,
The memories so strangely waked
Of long forgotten things,
The Gallows
© John Greenleaf Whittier
I.
THE suns of eighteen centuries have shone
Since the Redeemer walked with man, and made
The fisher's boat, the cavern's floor of stone,
Elegiac Stanzas Suggested by a Picture of Peele Castle in a Storm, Painted by Sir George Beaumont
© André Breton
I was thy neighbour once, thou rugged Pile!
Four summer weeks I dwelt in sight of thee:
I saw thee every day; and all the while
Thy Form was sleeping on a glassy sea.
Lullaby
© John Fuller
Sleep little baby, clean as a nut,
Your fingers uncurl and your eyes are shut.
Your life was ours, which is with you.
Go on your journey. We go too.
from Odes: 10. Chorus of Furies
© Ted Hughes
Guarda mi disse, le feroce Erine
Let us come upon him first as if in a dream,
Madeline. A Domestic Tale
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
My child, my child, thou leav'st me!âI shall hear
The gentle voice no more that blest mine ear
Martha
© Lesbia Harford
Sometimes I lose
My power of loving for an hour or two,
Then I misuse
My knowledge of friends' secrets to abuse
from The Emigrants: A Poem
© Charlotte Turner Smith
[Disillusion with the French Revolution]
So many years have passed,
To A Young Gentleman In Love. A Tale
© Matthew Prior
From publick Noise and factious Strife,
From all the busie Ills of Life,
Schemhammphorasch
© Rose Terry Cooke
‘This is the key which was given by the angel Michael to Pali, and by Pali to Moses. If “thou canst read it, then shalt thou understand the words of men, … the whistling of birds, the language of date-trees, the unity of hearts, ... nay, even the thoughts of the rains.”’
Gleanings after the Talmud
