Hope poems

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Three Women

© Sylvia Plath

A Poem for Three Voices

Setting:  A Maternity Ward and round about

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A Dittie

© John Lyly

Behold her lockes like wiers of beaten gold,
her eyes like starres that twinkle in the skie,
Her heavenly face not framd of earthly molde,
Her voice that sounds Apollos melodie,
The miracle of time, the [whole] worlds storie,
Fortunes Queen, Loves treasure, Natures glory.

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Concerning Resolution

© Thomas Parnell

Happy the man whose firm resolves obtain

Assisting Grace to burst his sinfull chain

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Summer Dawn

© Christopher Pearse Cranch

SOME summer mornings — when you've taken tea
Too late the night before — perhaps you'll see,
If at some Berkshire farmhouse far away
You chance to wake while yet the sky is gray,

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Inscription

© Alaric Alexander Watts

Stranger! if from the crowded walks of life

 Thou lovest to stray, and woo fair Solitude

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Bitter-Sweet

© Henry Van Dyke

Just to give up, and trust

  All to a Fate unknown,

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Canto de Esperanza (With English Translation)

© Rubén Dario

Un gran vuelo de cuervos mancha el azul celeste.
Un soplo milenario trae amagos de peste.
Se asesinan los hombres en el extremo Este.

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In France I Saw A Hill

© Wilcox Ella Wheeler

In France I saw a hill-a gentle slope
Rising above old tombs to greet the gleam
From soft spring skies. Beyond these skies dwells hope,
But those green graves bespeak a broken dream.

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The Death Of Hood

© Paul Hamilton Hayne

THE maimed and broken warrior lay,
By his last foeman brought to bay.
No sounds of battlefield were there--
The drum's deep bass, the trumpet's blare.

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A Forecast

© Archibald Lampman

One thing I know: if he be great and pure,
This love, this fire, this beauty shall endure;
Triumph and hope shall lead him by the palm:
But if not this, some differing thing he be,
That dream shall break in terror; he shall see
The whirlwind ripen, where he sowed the calm.

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Time’s Weariness

© Alfred Austin

Slow Time, that carrieth such a monstrous load

From every stage and hostel of the Past,

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The Ballad Of Mr. Cooke

© Francis Bret Harte

(LEGEND OF THE CLIFF HOUSE, SAN FRANCISCO)

Where the sturdy ocean breeze

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The Flood In Spring

© William Barnes

Last night below the elem in the lew

  Bright the sky did gleam

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The Prisoners Of Naples

© John Greenleaf Whittier

I HAVE been thinking of the victims bound
In Naples, dying for the lack of air
And sunshine, in their close, damp cells of pain,
Where hope is not, and innocence in vain

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Sir Eustace Grey

© George Crabbe

And shall I then the fact deny?
I was--thou know'st--I was begone,
Like him who fill'd the eastern throne,
To whom the Watcher cried aloud;
That royal wretch of Babylon,
Who was so guilty and so proud.

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The Voyage Of St. Brendan A.D. 545 - The Buried City

© Denis Florence MacCarthy

Beside that giant stream that foams and swells
Betwixt Hy-Conaill and Moyarta's shore,
And guards the isle where good Senanus dwells,
A gentle maiden dwelt in days of yore.

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The Heathen Pass-ee

© Arthur Clement Hilton

Which I wish to remark,
And my language is plain,
That for plots that are dark
And not always in vain,
The heathen Pass-ee is peculiar,
And the same I would rise to explain.

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The Black Rock

© John Gould Fletcher

Off the long headland, threshed about by round-backed breakers,
There is a black rock, standing high at the full tide;
Off the headland there is emptiness,
And the moaning of the ocean,
And the black rock standing alone.

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The King Of The Plow

© Paul Hamilton Hayne

THE sword is re-sheathed in its scabbard,
The rifle hangs safe on the wall;
No longer we quail at the hungry
Hot rush of the ravenous ball,

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Hunted Down

© Henry Kendall

Two years had the tiger, whose shape was that of a sinister man,

Been out since the night of escape - two years under horror and ban.