Hope poems

 / page 365 of 439 /
star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

The Hanging Of Levski

© Hristo Botev

O you, my Mother, my Native Land,
Why is your cry so sad and heart-rending!
And you, O Raven, accursed bird,
On whose grave croak you of ill impending?

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

The Slave

© Madison Julius Cawein

He waited till within her tower

Her taper signalled him the hour.

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

Songs Of The Imprisoned Naiad

© Paul Hamilton Hayne

"WOE! woe is me! the centuries pass away,
The mortal seasons run their ceaseless rounds,
While here I wither for the sunbright day,
Its genial sights and sounds.
Woe! woe is me!

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

The Children

© Rudyard Kipling

They bought us anew with their blood, forbearing to blame us,
Those hours which we had not made good when the Judgment o'ercame us.
They believed us and perished for it. Our statecraft, our learning
Delivered them bound to the Pit and alive to the burning
Whither they mirthfully hastened as jostling for honour.
Not since her birth has our Earth seen such worth loosed upon her!

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

Lyric of Action

© Paul Hamilton Hayne

'Tis the part of a coward to brood

O'er the past that is withered and dead:

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

On A Portrait

© Paul Hamilton Hayne

A widower muses over the likeness of his dead wife.
THE face, the beautiful face,
In its living flush and glow,
The perfect face in its peerless grace

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

The Tryst Of The Sachem’s Daughter

© Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon

In the far green depths of the forest glade,
Where the hunter’s footsteps but rarely strayed,
Was a darksome dell, possessed, ’twas said,
By an evil spirit, dark and dread,
Whose weird voice spoke in the whisperings low
Of that haunted wood, and the torrent’s flow.

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

Convention

© Sukasah Syahdan

(To Grandma)Convention will fail us, grandma dear
One of these days, as another birthday is drawing nearI hope I can manage with a proper wish
on something you no longer cherishAnd if I can’t help wishing you
a happy birthday anywayJust look at me in the eyes

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

Shame

© Sukasah Syahdan

You often look at her at some nights, when she is asleep so sound so tight

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

Sonnet VI. (Translated From Milton)

© William Cowper

Enamour'd, artless, young, on foreign ground,

  Uncertain whither from myself to fly,

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

Mister William

© William Schwenck Gilbert

OH, listen to the tale of MISTER WILLIAM, if you please,
Whom naughty, naughty judges sent away beyond the seas.
He forged a party's will, which caused anxiety and strife,
Resulting in his getting penal servitude for life.

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

Reticence

© Peter McArthur

WE may not babble unto alien ears

The truth revealed, nor show to heedless eyes

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

On Stopping Here

© Sukasah Syahdan

To: WBYWalking up your life girdle you may then
get tired or just need to look down
to see how far you have stepped
or how high you have elevated

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

De Libris

© William Cosmo Monkhouse

True — there are books and books. There’s Gray,
For instance, and there’s Bacon;
There’s Longfellow, and Monstrelet,
And also Colton’s “ Lacon,”
With “Laws of Whist” and those • of Libel,
And Euclid, and the Mormon Bible.

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

A Song From The Suds

© Louisa May Alcott

Queen of my tub, I merrily sing,
While the white foam raises high,
And sturdily wash, and rinse, and wring,
And fasten the clothes to dry;
Then out in the free fresh air they swing,
Under the sunny sky.

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

The Man Bitten By Fleas

© Anne Kingsmill Finch

A Peevish Fellow laid his Head
 On Pillows, stuff'd with Down;
But was no sooner warm in Bed,
 With hopes to rest his Crown,

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

The Homeless Ghost

© George MacDonald

Still flowed the music, flowed the wine.
 The youth in silence went;
Through naked streets, in cold moonshine,
 His homeward way he bent,
Where, on the city's seaward line,
 His lattice seaward leant.

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

How I Consulted The Oracle Of The Goldfishes

© James Russell Lowell

What know we of the world immense

Beyond the narrow ring of sense?

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

Blackberry-Picking

© Seamus Justin Heaney

Late August, given heavy rain and sun
For a full week, the blackberries would ripen.
At first, just one, a glossy purple clot
Among others, red, green, hard as a knot.