Hope poems
/ page 56 of 439 /
The Bard
© William Gilmore Simms
Where dwells the spirit of the Bard-what sky
Persuades his daring wing,-
Caged
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
YOU think he sings a gladsome song!
Ah, well, he sings! but only see
How oft on glossy neck and breast
His bright head droops despondingly;
Or note the restless, eager bird
When a free minstrel's voice is heard.
The Computation
© John Donne
For the first twenty years since yesterday
I scarce believed thou couldst be gone away;
Young Love
© Sara Teasdale
I cannot heed the words they say,
The lights grow far away and dim,
Amid the laughing men and maids
My eyes unbidden seek for him.
Epilogue
© Herman Melville
Yea, ape and angel, strife and old debate--
The harps of heaven and dreary gongs of hell;
Science the feud can only aggravate--
No umpire she betwixt the chimes and knell:
The running battle of the star and clod
Shall run forever--if there be no God.
The Toad
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Then also was it that that child with the stone,
He who now tells this story, from his hands
Let the flag drop. A voice had cried to him
Too loud for denial: ``Fool. Be merciful.''
M'Sieu Smit
© William Henry Drummond
Wan morning de walkim boss say "Damase,
I t'ink you're good man on canoe d'ecorce,
So I'll ax you go wit' your frien' Philéas
An' meet M'sieu' Smit' on Chenail W'ite Horse.
Welcome To Winter
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
NOW, with wild and windy roar,
Stalwart Winter comes once more,--
O'er our roof-tree thunders loud,
And from edges of black cloud
The Shape of Death
© May Swenson
What does love look like? We know
the shape of death. Death is a cloud
immense and awesome. At first a lid
is lifted from the eye of light:
there is a clap of sound, a white blossom
The Ring And The Book - Chapter III - The Other Half-Rome
© Robert Browning
ANOTHER DAY that finds her living yet,
Little Pompilia, with the patient brow
Italy : 19. Foscari
© Samuel Rogers
Let us lift up the curtain, and observe
What passes in that chamber. Now a sigh,
And now a groan is heard. Then all is still.
Twenty are sitting as in judgement there;
On The Death Of ---
© Richard Monckton Milnes
I'm not where I was yesterday,
Though my home be still the same,
For I have lost the veriest friend
Whom ever a friend could name;
The Art Of War. Book II.
© Henry James Pye
The season form'd to fan more pleasing fires,
Parent of blooming hopes and young desires,
When smiling Graces every flower combine,
The blooming wreaths of Love and Peace to twine,
Tempts only now to scenes of blood and death
The daring Warrior urg'd by Glory's breath.
Troilus And Cresida
© William Wordsworth
FROM CUAUCER
NEXT morning Troilus began to clear
His eyes from sleep, at the first break of day,
And unto Pandarus, his own Brother dear,
The Poor Of The Borough. Letter XXI: Abel Keene
© George Crabbe
merchant's son,
Choice spirits all, who wish'd him to be one;
It must, no question, give them lively joy,
Hopes long indulged to combat and destroy;
At these they levelled all their skill and
The Gardens
© Emile Verhaeren
The landscape now reveals a change;
A stair--that twinèd elm-boughs hold
Enclosed 'mid hedges mystic, strange--
Inaugurates a green and gold
Vision of gardens, range on range.
The Helmsman
© Henry Kendall
LIKE one who meets a staggering blow,
The stout old ship doth reel,
And waters vast go seething past
But will it last, this fearful blast,
On straining shroud and groaning mast,
O sailor at the wheel?
Memory's Genesis
© Charles Harpur
Yes! tis a melancholy sweet,
And thus let Memory oft repeat
Lifes first tale, that to the core
Retempered by such generous lore,
Our hardning spirits, as tis meet,
May pity the cold worldthe world we trust no more!
