Hope poems
/ page 269 of 439 /Sonnet LXXX. To The Invisible Moon
© Charlotte Turner Smith
DARK and conceal'd art thou, soft Evening's queen,
And Melancholy's votaries that delight
To watch thee, gliding through the blue serene,
Now vainly seek thee on the brow of night--
Michael: A Pastoral Poem
© William Wordsworth
Thus in his Father's sight the Boy grew up:
And now, when he had reached his eighteenth year,
He was his comfort and his daily hope.
To an Echo on the Banks of the Hunter [Early Version]
© Charles Harpur
I hear thee, echo! And I start to hear thee
With a strange shock, as from among the hills
Breitmann As An Uhlan. II. Brietmann In A Balloon.
© Charles Godfrey Leland
WHO vas efer hear soosh voonders,
Holy breest or virshin nonn?
As pefelled de Coptain Breitmann,
Vhen he hoont an air-ballon.
Elegiac Stanzas In Memory Of My Brother, John Commander Of The E. I. Companys Ship The Earl Of Aber
© William Wordsworth
I
THE Sheep-boy whistled loud, and lo!
That instant, startled by the shock,
The Buzzard mounted from the rock
A Dedication - To K.S.G.
© Henry Timrod
Fair Saxon, in my lover's creed,
My love were smaller than your meed,
Caelica 29: [The nurse-life wheat within his green husk growing]
© Fulke Greville
The nurse-life wheat within his green husk growing,
Flatters our hope, and tickles our desire,
Nature’s true riches in sweet beauties showing,
Which sets all hearts, with labor’s love, on fire.
Elegiac Stanzas Suggested By A Picture Of Peele Castle
© William Wordsworth
Ah! then , if mine had been the Painter's hand,
To express what then I saw; and add the gleam,
The light that never was, on sea or land,
The consecration, and the Poet's dream;
The Joy Of The Lord Is Your Strength
© John Newton
Joy is a fruit that will not grow
In nature's barren foil;
All we can boast, till Christ we know,
Is vanity and toil.
Prejudice
© Lizelia Augusta Jenkins Moorer
How strangely blind is prejudice, the Negro's greatest foe!
It never fails to see the wrong but naught of good can know.
'Tis blind to all that's lofty, yea, to truth it is opposed,
Degrading things will ope his eyes, while good will keep them closed.
To The Honble. Miss Carteret, Now Countess Of Dysert.
© Mary Barber
Fair Innocence, the Muses lovelicst
On Acts of Mercy sound thy rising Fame.
Let others from frail Beauty hope Applause:
Plead thou the Fatherless, and Widow's Cause.
Fancy and the Poet
© Susanna Moodie
I took the crown from the snowy hand,
It flashed like a living star;
I turned this dark earth to a fairy land
When I hither drive my car;
But I placed the crown round my tresses bright,
And man only saw its reflected light—
The Cry Of A Lost Soul
© John Greenleaf Whittier
In that black forest, where, when day is done,
With a snake's stillness glides the Amazon
Darkly from sunset to the rising sun,
Say not the Struggle nought Availeth
© Arthur Hugh Clough
Say not the struggle nought availeth,
The labour and the wounds are vain,
The enemy faints not, nor faileth,
And as things have been they remain.
Sonnet II. On A Discovery Made Too Late
© Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Thou bleedest, my poor heart! and thy distress
Reas'ning I ponder with a scornful smile
And probe thy sore wound sternly, tho' the while
Swollen be mine eye and dim with heaviness.
My Mother-Land
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
Death! What of death?--
Can he who once drew honorable breath
In liberty's pure sphere,
Foster a sensual fear,
When death and slavery meet him face to face,