Hope poems
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From Mount Ebal
© John Bunyan
Thus having heard from Gerizzim, I shall
Next come to Ebal, and you thither call,
The Shepherds Calendar - July
© John Clare
Daughter of pastoral smells and sights
And sultry days and dewy nights
July resumes her yearly place
Wi her milking maiden face
Birds In The Night
© Paul Verlaine
You were not over-patient with me, dear;
This want of patience one must rightly rate:
You are so young! Youth ever was severe
And variable and inconsiderate!
A New Pilgrimage: Sonnet VI
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Away from sorrow! Yes, indeed, away!
Who said that care behind the horseman sits?
The train to Paris, as it flies to--day,
Whirls its bold rider clear of ague fits.
A Rejected Lover To His Mistress (II)
© Frances Anne Kemble
The love that was too poor to purchase you
Is rich enough to buy each noble thing,
The Old Burying-Ground
© John Greenleaf Whittier
Our vales are sweet with fern and rose,
Our hills are maple-crowned;
But not from them our fathers chose
The village burying-ground.
Charity
© Victor Marie Hugo
"Lo! I am Charity," she cries,
"Who waketh up before the day;
While yet asleep all nature lies,
God bids me rise and go my way."
Paradise Regain'd : Book III.
© John Milton
So spake the Son of God; and Satan stood
A while as mute, confounded what to say,
What to reply, confuted and convinced
Of his weak arguing and fallacious drift;
An Autumn Evening At Murray Bay
© Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
Darkly falls the autumn twilight, rustles by the crisp leaf sere,
Sadly wail the lonely night-winds, sweeping sea-ward, chill and drear,
Sullen dash the restless waters gainst a bleak and rock-bound shore,
While the sea-birds weird voices mingle with their surging roar.
To Doc Wylie
© Henry Lawson
THOUGH doctors may your name discard
And say you physicked vilely,
I would I were as good a bard
As you a doctor, Wylie!
On Mrs. Little, In Redcliff Church, Bristol.
© Hannah More
O could this verse her fair example spread,
And teach the living while it prais'd the dead!
The Fovrth Booke Of Qvodlibets
© Robert Hayman
Sermons and Epigrams haue a like end,
To improue, to reproue, and to amend:
Some passe without this vse, 'cause they are witty;
And so doe many Sermons, more's the pitty.
Dance Of Death
© Franz Werfel
Death has taken me out for a swing.
At first I didn't drop from the quickstep
In his dance and clogged right along
Until he drove the tempo up.
The Voice Calling
© Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
IN the hush of April weather,
With the bees in budding heather,
And the white clouds floating, floating, and the sunshine falling broad;
While my children down the hill
Run and leap, and I sit still,--
Through the silence, through the silence art Thou calling, O my God?
Foreshadowings
© Henry Kendall
FIFTEEN miles and then the harbour! Here we cannot choose but stand,
Faces thrust towards the day-break, listening for our native land!
Interlude: Songs Out Of Sorrow
© Sara Teasdale
This is the spot where I will lie
When life has had enough of me,
These are the grasses that will blow
Above me like a living sea.
Nineteenth Sunday After Trinity
© John Keble
When Persecution's torrent blaze
Wraps the unshrinking Martyr's head;
When fade all earthly flowers and bays,
When summer friends are gone and fled,
Is he alone in that dark hour
Who owns the Lord of love and power?
