Hope poems
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Gold Egg: A Dream-Fantasy
© James Russell Lowell
I swam with undulation soft,
Adrift on Vischer's ocean,
And, from my cockboat up aloft,
Sent down my mental plummet oft
In hope to reach a notion.
The Rabbi's Song
© Rudyard Kipling
"The House Surgeon"--Actions and Reactions 2 Samuel XIV. 14.
If Thought can reach to Heaven,
On Heaven let it dwell,
For fear the Thought be given
Lament For The Two Brothers Slain By Each Other's Hand
© Aeschylus
Now do our eyes behold
The tidings which were told:
Funeral Libation (At Gautiers Tomb)
© Stéphane Mallarme
To you, gone emblem of our happiness!
Greetings, in pale libation and madness,
An Occasional Prologue, Delivered Previous To The Performance Of 'The Wheel Of Fortune' At A Private
© George Gordon Byron
Since the refinement of this polish'd age
Has swept irnmortal raillery from the stage;
Since taste has now expunged licentious wit,
Which stamp'd disgrace on all an author writ;
One Viceroy Resigns
© Rudyard Kipling
So here's your Empire. No more wine, then?
Good.
We'll clear the Aides and khitmatgars away.
(You'll know that fat old fellow with the knife --
The Vision Of The Maid Of Orleans - The First Book
© Robert Southey
The plumeless bat with short shrill note flits by,
And the night-raven's scream came fitfully,
Borne on the hollow blast. Eager the Maid
Look'd to the shore, and now upon the bank
Leaps, joyful to escape, yet trembling still
In recollection.
The Native-Born
© Rudyard Kipling
And the children nine and ten (Stand up!),
And the life we live and know,
Let a fellow sing o' the little things he cares about,
If a fellow fights for the little things he cares about
With the weight of a two-fold blow!
My Rival
© Rudyard Kipling
I go to concert, party, ball --
What profit is in these?
I sit alone against the wall
And strive to look at ease.
Songs of the Autumn Days
© George MacDonald
We bore him through the golden land,
One early harvest morn;
The corn stood ripe on either hand-
He knew all about the corn.
Written At Trenton Falls
© Frances Anne Kemble
O God! how full of happiness I stood!
Looking into the eyes that were my day,
And felt my soul, borne like that rushing flood,
In eddying tumults of delight away.
Beyond Kerguelen
© Henry Kendall
DOWN in the South, by the waste without sail on it
Far from the zone of the blossom and tree
The Dead To The Living
© Edith Nesbit
Work while it is day: the night cometh, when no man can work.
IN the childhood of April, while purple woods
The Cellar Door
© John Clare
By the old tavern door on the causey there lay
A hogshead of stingo just rolled from a dray,
The Lovers' Litany
© Rudyard Kipling
Eyes of grey -- a sodden quay,
Driving rain and falling tears,
As the steamer wears to sea
In a parting storm of cheers.
The Long Trail
© Rudyard Kipling
The Lord knows what we may find, dear lass,
And The Deuce knows we may do
But we're back once more on the old trail, our own trail, the out trail,
We're down, hull-down, on the Long Trail -- the trail that is always new!
Metamorphoses: Book The Fourth
© Ovid
The End of the Fourth Book.
Translated into English verse under the direction of
Sir Samuel Garth by John Dryden, Alexander Pope, Joseph Addison,
William Congreve and other eminent hands
The Lesson
© Rudyard Kipling
Not on a single issue, or in one direction or twain,
But conclusively, comprehensively, and several times and
again,
L'Envoi
© Rudyard Kipling
There's a whisper down the field where the year has shot her yield,
And the ricks stand gray to the sun,
Singing: -- "Over then, come over, for the bee has quit the clover,
And your English summer's done."
The Last Rhyme of True Thomas
© Rudyard Kipling
The King has called for priest and cup,
The King has taken spur and blade
To dub True Thomas a belted knight,
And all for the sake o' the songs he made.
