Hope poems
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Oft Have I Vowd How Dearly I Did Love Thee
© John Wilbye
Oft have I vowd how dearly I did love thee,
And oft observd thee with all willing duty,
To Clementina Black
© Amy Levy
More blest than was of old Diogenes,
I have not held my lantern up in vain.
Not mine, at least, this evil-to complain:
"There is none honest among all of these."
Sonnet XXXIII. Life And Death. 5.
© Christopher Pearse Cranch
YET in all facts of sense life stands revealed;
And from a thousand symbols hope may take
Its charter to escape the Stygian lake,
And find existence in an ampler field.
To Belshazzar
© George Gordon Byron
Belshazzar! from the banquet turn,
Nor in thy sensual fulness fall;
Behold! while yet before thee burn
The graven words, the glowing wall.
Z---------'s dream
© Anne Brontë
Unwonted weakness o'er me crept;
I sighed - nay, weaker still - I wept!
Wept, like a woman o'er the deed
I had been proud to do: -
As I had made his bosom bleed;
My own was bleeding too.
Sonnet XXXI
© Fernando António Nogueira Pessoa
I am older than Nature and her Time
By all the timeless age of Consciousness,
Am Rhein. - No. II.
© Charles Godfrey Leland
AM Rhein! Acain am Rheine!
In boat oopon der Rhein!
De castle-bergs soft goldnen
Im Abendsonnenschein,
Nightmare For Future Reference
© Stephen Vincent Benet
"Not like this," he said. "I can show you the curve.
It looks like the side of a mountain, going down.
And faster, the last three months yes, a good deal faster.
I showed it to Lobenheim and he was puzzled.
It makes a neat problem yes?" He looked at me.
Address To My Infant Daughter, Dora On Being Reminded That She Was A Month Old That Day, September 1
© William Wordsworth
--HAST thou then survived-
Mild Offspring of infirm humanity,
Home, Sweet Home
© Frances Ellen Watkins Harper
"It shall be a royal mansion,
A fair and beautiful thing,
It will be the presence-chamber
Of thy Saviour, Lord and King.
Ode On Venice
© George Gordon Byron
I.
Oh Venice! Venice! when thy marble walls
Are level with the waters, there shall be
A cry of nations o'er thy sunken halls,
A loud lament along the sweeping sea!
If I, a northern wanderer, weep for thee,
Deaths Chill Between
© Christina Georgina Rossetti
Chide not; let me breathe a little,
For I shall not mourn him long;
Though the life-cord was so brittle,
The love-cord was very strong.
I would wake a little space
Till I find a sleeping-place.
The Lake Josephus Days
© Richard Brautigan
We left Little Redfish for Lake Josephus, traveling along the
good names-from Stanley to Capehorn to Seafoam to the
Childe Harold's Pilgrimage: A Romaunt. Canto I.
© George Gordon Byron
Nay, smile not at my sullen brow,
Alas! I cannot smile again:
Yet Heaven avert that ever thou
Shouldst weep, and haply weep in vain.
I: Why I Write Not To Love
© Benjamin Jonson
Some act of Love's bound to reherse,
I thought to bind him, in my verse:
The Rose And Thorn
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
SHE'S loveliest of the festal throng
In delicate form and Grecian face;
A beautiful, incarnate song;
A marvel of harmonious grace;
