Hope poems
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The Song of a Prison
© Henry Lawson
Tis a song of the weary warders, whom prisoners call the screws
A class of men who I fancy would cleave to the Evening News.
They look after their treasures sadly. By the screw of their keys they are known,
And they screw them many times daily before they draw their own.
A private public space
© Richard Jones
to your party and they don’t come,
they’re too busy tending vaginal
flowers, hating football, walking their golden
and chocolate labs. X gave me a poem
Unknown Girl in the Maternity Ward
© Anne Sexton
Child, the current of your breath is six days long.
You lie, a small knuckle on my white bed;
The Cherry Trees
© Robert Laurence Binyon
Out of the dusk of distant woods
All round beneath the April skies
Blossom--white, the cherry trees
Like lovely apparitions rise,
To Sir George Howland Beaumont, Bart From the South-West Coast Or Cumberland 1811
© William Wordsworth
FAR from our home by Grasmere's quiet Lake,
From the Vale's peace which all her fields partake,
Here on the bleakest point of Cumbria's shore
We sojourn stunned by Ocean's ceaseless roar;
Birth Story -- English Translation
© Rabindranath Tagore
The kid asks his mum,
From where did I come,
Our Casuarina Tree
© Toru Dutt
LIKE a huge Python, winding round and round
The rugged trunk, indented deep with scars,
Sonnet XXII. By The Same. To Solitude.
© Charlotte Turner Smith
OH, Solitude! to thy sequester'd vale
I come to hide my sorrow and my tears,
And to thy echoes tell the mournful tale
Which scarce I trust to pitying Friendship's ears.
because big things are oceans that havent been mapped as yet
© Jean de Schelandre
lets talk about small things then
the chandelier earrings i tried
at the store today
they were green
and gorgeous
The Affliction (I)
© George Herbert
When first thou didst entice to thee my heart,
I thought the service brave;
So many joys I writ down for my part,
Besides what I might have
Out of my stock of natural delights,
Augmented with thy gracious benefits.
Sonnet XCVII: How like a Winter hath my Absence been
© William Shakespeare
How like a winter hath my absence been
From thee, the pleasure of the fleeting year!
Advice to Her Son on Marriage
© Mary Barber
from The Conclusion of a Letter to the Rev. Mr C
When you gain her Affection, take care to preserve it;
An Ode on the Popular Superstitions of the Highlands of Scotland, Considered as the Subject of Poetry
© William Taylor Collins
Home, thou return'st from Thames, whose Naiads long
Have seen thee ling'ring, with a fond delay,
Song. Sorrow
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
To me this world's a dreary blank,
All hopes in life are gone and fled,
My high strung energies are sank,
And all my blissful hopes lie dead.--
Consolation
© Robert Louis Stevenson
Though he, that ever kind and true,
Kept stoutly step by step with you,
Sonnet XXII: To Cyriack Skinner
© Patrick Kavanagh
Cyriack, this three years' day these eyes, though clear
To outward view of blemish or of spot,
Upon A Branch Of Flowering Acacia
© Frances Anne Kemble
The blossoms hang again upon the tree,
As when with their sweet breath they greeted me
The Mower’s Song
© Andrew Marvell
My mind was once the true survey
Of all these meadows fresh and gay,
And in the greenness of the grass
Did see its hopes as in a glass;
When Juliana came, and she
What I do to the grass, does to my thoughts and me.
