Hope poems
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From The Woods
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
WHY should I, with a mournful, morbid spleen,
Lament that here, in this half-desert scene,
My lot is placed?
At least the poet-winds are bold and loud,--
In thankfull acknowledgment for the letters I received from my husband ovt of England.
© Anne Bradstreet
O thou that hear'st the Prayers of Thine,
And 'mongst them hast regarded Mine,
The Desire Of Life
© Arthur Symons
O broken, old, weary desire of life,
Unquenchable flame of desire,
Monody On The Death Of The Right Hon. R. B. Sheridan
© George Gordon Byron
When the last sunshine of expiring day
In summer's twilight weeps itself away,
See, See, Mine Own Sweet Jewel
© Thomas Morley
See, see, mine own sweet jewel,
See what I have here for my darling:
A robin-redbreast and a starling.
These I give both, in hope to move thee-
And yet thou say'st I do not love thee.
Eclogue:--The Common A-Took In
© William Barnes
Good morn t'ye, John. How b'ye? how b'ye?
Zoo you be gwaïn to market, I do zee.
Why, you be quite a-lwoaded wi' your geese.
Mother And Child
© Robert Laurence Binyon
By old blanched fibres of gaunt ivy bound,
The hollow crag towers under noon's blue height.
Ribbed ledges, lizard--haunted crannies white,
Cushioned with stone--crop and with moss embrowned,
Book Seventh [Residence in London]
© William Wordsworth
Returned from that excursion, soon I bade
Farewell for ever to the sheltered seats
Of gowned students, quitted hall and bower,
And every comfort of that privileged ground,
Well pleased to pitch a vagrant tent among
The unfenced regions of society.
The Tent Of Noon
© Bliss William Carman
Behold, now, where the pageant of the high June
Halts in the glowing noon!
The trailing shadows rest on plain and hill;
The bannered hosts are still,
While over forest crown and mountain head
The azure tent is spread.
Metamorphoses: Book The Third
© Ovid
The End of the Third 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
Ilicet
© Algernon Charles Swinburne
THERE is an end of joy and sorrow;
Peace all day long, all night, all morrow,
But never a time to laugh or weep.
The end is come of pleasant places,
The end of tender words and faces,
The end of all, the poppied sleep.
The Fairy West
© Henry Lawson
P.S.: I was in Yewklid the day I finished
Me edyercashun in those times dim
My younger brother cleared out to Queensland,
Twas mountains and rivers that finished him.
Noey Bixler
© James Whitcomb Riley
Another hero of those youthful years
Returns, as Noey Bixler's name appears.
The Bereaved
© Robert Laurence Binyon
We grudged not those that were dearer than all we possessed,
Lovers, brothers, sons.
Our hearts were full, and out of a full heart
We gave our belovèd ones.
Ghazal
© Faiz Ahmed Faiz
I am being accused of loving you, that is all
It is not an insult, but a praise, that is all
The True Philosophy
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
I'D have you use a wise philosophy,
In this, as in all matters, whereupon
Judgment may freely act; truth ever lies
Between extremes; avoid the spendthrift's folly
Christmas Cards
© Franklin Pierce Adams
Before you send me up that card
With rime and diction far from subtle,
Hear what a now rebellious bard
Says in a quasi-pre-rebuttal.
