Hope poems
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Cotton and Corn
© Thomas Moore
Said Cotton to Corn, t'other day,
As they met and exchang'd salute--
(Squire Corn in his carriage so gay,
Poor Cotton, half famish'd on foot):
Sordello: Book the Fifth
© Robert Browning
"Embrace him, madman!" Palma cried,
Who through the laugh saw sweat-drops burst apace,
And his lips blanching: he did not embrace
Sordello, but he laid Sordello's hand
On his own eyes, mouth, forehead.
Befire the Battle
© Thomas Moore
Happy is he o'er whose decline
The smiles of home may soothing shine,
And light him down the steep of years:
But oh, how blest they sink to rest,
Who close their eyes on victory's breast!
Avenging and Bright
© Thomas Moore
Avenging and bright fall the swift sword of Erin
On him who the brave sons of Usna betray'd! --
For every fond eye he hath waken'd a tear in
A drop from his heart-wounds shall weep o'er her blade.
And Doth Not a Meeting Like This
© Thomas Moore
And doth not a meeting like this make amends
For all the long years I've been wandering away --
To see thus around me my youth's early friends,
As smiling and kind as in that happy day?
An Incantation
© Thomas Moore
Come with me, and we will blow
Lots of bubbles, as we go;
Bubbles bright as ever Hope
Drew from fancy -- or from soap;
After the Battle
© Thomas Moore
Night closed around the conqueror's way,
And lightnings show'd the distant hill,
Where those who lost that dreadful day
Stood few and faint, but fearless still.
Sunday
© George Herbert
O day most calm, most bright
The fruit of this, the next world's bud,
Th'endorsement of supreme delight,
Writ by a friend, and with his blood;
A Dialogue
© George Herbert
Man. SWEETEST Saviour, if my soul
Were but worth the having,
Quickly should I then control
Any thought of waving.
The British Church
© George Herbert
I joy, dear mother, when I view
Thy perfect lineaments, and hue
Both sweet and bright.
Beauty in thee takes up her place,
And dates her letters from thy face,
When she doth write.
Affliction
© George Herbert
When thou didst entice to thee my heart,
I thought the service brave:
So many joys I writ down for my part,
Besides what I might have
Out of my stock of natural delights,
Augmented with thy gracious benefits.
The Temper
© George Herbert
How should I praise thee, Lord! how should my rhymes
Gladly engrave thy love in steel,
If what my soul doth feel sometimes
My soul might ever feel!
Sin
© George Herbert
Lord, with what care hast Thou begirt us round!
Parents first season us; then schoolmasters
Deliver us to laws;they send us bound
To rules of reason, holy messengers,
Studio Composition
© Joseph Mayo Wristen
Cup of WordsCrystal sphere sitting
Before child like statue
Words of Lennon mixed
In a clay Klee fish bowl
The Carnival
© Robert Creeley
Whereas the man who hits
the gong dis-
proves it, in all its
simplicity --
The Mirror
© Robert Creeley
Seeing is believing.
Whatever was thought or said,these persistent, inexorable deaths
make faith as such absent,our humanness a question,
a disgust for what we are.Whatever the hope,
Myself
© Robert Creeley
What, younger, felt
was possible, now knows
is not - but still
not chanted enough -
