Hope poems
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To Miss Tempe
© George Moses Horton
Bless'd hope, when Tempe takes her last long flight,
And leaves her lass-lorn lover to complain,
Like Luna mantling o'er the brow of night,
Thy glowing wing dispels the gloom of pain.
Happiness of a Country Life
© James Thomson
Oh! knew he but his happiness, of men
The happiest he, who, far from public rage,
Alfred And Janet
© Robert Bloomfield
At thirteen she was all that Heaven could send,
My nurse, my faithful clerk, my lively friend;
Last at my pillow when I sunk to sleep,
First on my threshold soon as day could peep:
I heard her happy to her heart's desire,
With clanking pattens, and a roaring fire.
Griselda: A Society Novel In Verse - Chapter III
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
How long they sat thus silent who shall say?
Griselda knew not. Time was far away;
She wanted courage to prepare her heart
For that last bitterest word of all, ``We part.''
And he cared naught for time. His Heaven was there,
Nor needed thought, nor speech, nor even prayer.
Not Love
© Augusta Davies Webster
I HAVE not yet I could have loved thee, sweet;
Nor know I wherefore, thou being all thou art,
The engrafted thought in me throve incomplete,
The Retreat
© Henry King
Pursue no more (my thoughts!) that false unkind,
You may assoon imprison the North-wind;
Or catch the Lightning as it leaps; or reach
The leading billow first ran down the breach;
Weak Is The Will Of Man, His Judgement Blind
© William Wordsworth
'WEAK is the will of Man, his judgment blind;
'Remembrance persecutes, and Hope betrays;
'Heavy is woe;--and joy, for human-kind,
'A mournful thing, so transient is the blaze!'
The Washers of the Shroud
© James Russell Lowell
Along a riverside, I know not where,
I walked one night in mystery of dream;
A chill creeps curdling yet beneath my hair,
To think what chanced me by the pallid gleam
Of a moon-wraith that waned through haunted air.
The Oldest Inhabitant
© Augusta Davies Webster
"AND when came I to this town?" did he say!
A question asked for the asking's sake,
The Irish Emigrants Mother
© Denis Florence MacCarthy
"Oh! come, my mother, come away, across the sea-green water;
Oh! come with me, and come with him, the husband of thy daughter;
Oh! come with us, and come with them, the sister and the brother,
Who, prattling climb thy ag'ed knees, and call thy daughter-mother.
Ode To Naples
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
EPODE 1a.
I stood within the City disinterred;
And heard the autumnal leaves like light footfalls
Of spirits passing through the streets; and heard
Edith: A Tale Of The Woods
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
"Thou'rt passing from the lake's green side,
And the hunter's hearth away;
For the time of flowers, for the summer's pride,
Daughter! thou canst not stay.
Leander To Hero
© Madison Julius Cawein
Brows wan thro' blue-black tresses
Wet with sharp rain and kisses;
Locks loose the sea-wind scatters,
Like torn wings fierce for flight;
Cold brows, whose sadness flatters,
One kiss and then--good-night.
The Call Of Liberty. May 1809
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
YE nations of Europe! arising to war,
And scorning submission to tyranny's might
Oh! follow the track of my bright blazing car,
Diffusing a path-way of radiance afar,
Dispelling the shadows of night!
After The Thunder
© William Henry Ogilvie
If I'd 'a had two I'd 'a held 'em; but just because I had four,
An' the black colt in for the first time, an' the bay mare lookin' for war,
The Clock of The Universe
© George MacDonald
A clock aeonian, steady and tall,
With its back to creation's flaming wall,
The Mystic Trumpeter
© Walt Whitman
I hear thee, trumpeter-listening, alert, I catch thy notes,
Now pouring, whirling like a tempest round me,
Now low, subdued-now in the distance lost.
The English Youth
© Robert Laurence Binyon
There is a dimness fallen on old fames.
Our hearts are solemnized with dearer names
Than Time is bright with: we have not heard alone,
Or read of it in books; it is our own
The Pilot That Weath'd The Storm
© George Canning
If hush'd the loud whirlwind that ruffled the deep,
The sky, if no longer dark tempests deform;
When our perils are past, shall our gratitude sleep?
No!-Here's to the Pilot who weather'd the storm!
