Hope poems
/ page 57 of 439 /
To E.G., Dedicating a Book
© George MacDonald
A broken tale of endless things,
Take, lady: thou art not of those
Who in what vale a fountain springs
Would have its journey close.
A Story Of Doom: Book I.
© Jean Ingelow
Niloiya said to Noah, "What aileth thee,
My master, unto whom is my desire,
The father of my sons?" He answered her,
"Mother of many children, I have heard
The Voice again." "Ah, me!" she saith, "ah, me!
What spake it?" and with that Niloiya sighed.
The Wishing Bridge
© John Greenleaf Whittier
AMONG the legends sung or said
Along our rocky shore,
The Wishing Bridge of Marblehead
May well be sung once more.
When Albani Sang
© William Henry Drummond
Was workin' away on de farm dere, wan
morning not long ago,
Specimen Of An Induction To A Poem
© John Keats
Lo! I must tell a tale of chivalry;
For large white plumes are dancing in mine eye.
Not like the formal crest of latter days:
But bending in a thousand graceful ways;
Remembrance of Christmas Past
© Judith Viorst
We rose at dawn to three boys singing Rudolph.
We listened numbly to their shouts of glee.
The kitten threw up tinsel on the carpet.
The fire truck collided with the tree, requiring
The Parish Register - Part III: Burials
© George Crabbe
drown'd.
"Is this a landsman's love? Be certain then,
"We part for ever!"--and they cried, "Amen!"
His words were truth's:- Some forty summers
Ruans Voyage
© Robert Laurence Binyon
``Fisherman, fisherman, help!'' she cried.
Ruan turned his boat aside
Swiftly in the eddying tide.
Night In State Street
© Harriet Monroe
Art thou he?
The seer and sage, the hero and loveryea,
The man of men, then away from the haughty
day
Come with me!
The Ballad Of The Dark Ladie. A Fragment.
© Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Beneath yon birch with silver bark,
And boughs so pendulous and fair,
The brook falls scatter'd down the rock:
And all is mossy there!
The Missionary - Canto Fourth
© William Lisle Bowles
Earth upon the billet heap;
So may a tyrant's heart be buried deep!
The dark woods echoed to the long acclaim,
Accursed be his nation and his name!
Tears, Idle Tears
© Alfred Tennyson
Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean,
Tears from the depth of some divine despair
Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes,
In looking on the happy Autumn-fields,
And thinking of the days that are no more.
An Athenian Reverie
© Archibald Lampman
How the returning days, one after one,
Came ever in their rhythmic round, unchanged,
Margaret Love Peacock, for her tombstone, 1826
© Thomas Love Peacock
Long night succeeds thy little day;
Oh blighted blossom! can it be,
That this grey stone, and grassy clay,
Have clos'd our anxious care of thee?
My Cousin From Pall Mall
© Arthur Patchett Martin
Theres nothing so exasperates a true Australian youth,
Whatever be his rank in life, be he cultured or uncouth,
As the manner of a London swell. Now it chanced, the other day,
That one came out, consigned to mea cousin, by the way.
At Port Royal
© John Greenleaf Whittier
The tent-lights glimmer on the land,
The ship-lights on the sea;
The night-wind smooths with drifting sand
Our track on lone Tybee.
