Hope poems
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The Reformer
© John Greenleaf Whittier
ALL grim and soiled and brown with tan,
I saw a Strong One, in his wrath,
Smiting the godless shrines of man
Along his path.
The Minstrel ; Or, The Progress Of Genius - Book II.
© James Beattie
I.
Of chance or change O let not man complain,
Else shall he never never cease to wail:
For, from the imperial dome, to where the swain
Jewelled Offering
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Jewelled offering bring I none,
Jade or pearl or precious stone,
Urn of crystal, bale of spice,
Unguent culled in Paradise,
At Dusk
© Henry Kendall
AT DUSK, like flowers that shun the day,
Shy thoughts from dim recesses break,
And plead for words I dare not say
For your sweet sake.
The Earth Laments for Day
© Henry Kendall
THERES music wafting on the air,
The evening winds are sighing
Among the treesand yonder stream
Is mournfully replying,
Lamenting loud the sunny light
That in the west is dying.
Middle Harbour
© John Le Gay Brereton
Lonely wonder, delight past hoping!
Sky-line broken by stirring trees,
Grey rocks hither and shoreward sloping,
Silent bracken about my knees.
The Dancing Bear
© James Russell Lowell
Far over Elf-land poets stretch their sway,
And win their dearest crowns beyond the goal
The Three Warnings
© Hester Lynch Piozzi
The tree of deepest root is found
Least willing still to quit the ground;
A New Pilgrimage: Sonnet XXV
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
And what brave life it was we lived that tide,
Lived, or essayed to live--for who shall say
Youth garners aught but its own dreams denied,
Or handles what it hoped for yesterday?
To The Right Hon. Mr. Dodington
© Edward Young
Balbutius, muffled in his sable cloak,
Like an old Druid from his hollow oak,
As ravens solemn, and as boding, cries,
"Ten thousand worlds for the three unities!"
Ye doctors sage, who through Parnassus teach,
Or quit the tub, or practise what you preach.
Wake now, my Soul, and humbly hear
© John Austin
Wake now, my Soul, and humbly hear
What thy mild Lord commands:
After Reading J. T. Gilberts "The History Of Dublin."
© Denis Florence MacCarthy
Long have I loved the beauty of thy streets,
Fair Dublin: long, with unavailing vows,
The Dominion.
© James Brunton Stephens
OH, fair Ideal, unto whom
Through days of doubt and nights of gloom
Too Late
© Richard Harris Barham
Too late! though flowerets round me blow,
And clearing skies shine bright and fair;
Their genial warmth avails not now -
Thou art not here the beam to share.
Song I
© James Russell Lowell
Violet! dear violet!
Thy blue eyes are only wet
With joy and love of Him who sent thee,
And for the fulfilling sense
Of that glad obedience
Which made thee all that Nature meant thee!
The Birch-Tree
© James Russell Lowell
Rippling through thy branches goes the sunshine,
Among thy leaves that palpitate forever;
Ovid in thee a pining Nymph had prisoned,
The soul once of some tremulous inland river,
Quivering to tell her woe, but, ah! dumb, dumb forever!
Vae Victis
© Sir Henry Newbolt
Beside the placid sea that mirrored her
With the old glory of dawn that cannot die,
The Melbourne International Exhibition A. D. 1880
© Mary Hannay Foott
And thou who once wast Pharaoh's, and thou whose palm-thatched kraals
For centuries made marvel of bold De Gamas sails,
And all that dwell betwixt you, whateer your race and name,
Who seek our shores in kindness, we thank you that you came.
To Charles Lloyd
© Charles Lamb
A stranger, and alone, I past those scenes
We past so late together; and my heart
