Hope poems
/ page 66 of 439 /
Saint Oluf (From The Old Danish)
© George Borrow
St. Oluf was a mighty king,
Who ruld the Northern land;
The holy Christian faith he preachd,
And taught it, sword in hand.
The Lepers Betrothed
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
To clasp his spirit undefiled, my spirit leaped beneath my hand,
He said no sad reproach to me, but only, "Love, I understand."
O coward my eyes that would not see, held slaves 'neath closing finger-tips;
O coward my flesh that would not let my spirit's whisper through your lips.
Sancho Sanchez
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Sancho Sanchez lay a--dying in the house of Mariquita,
For his life ebbed with the ebbing of the red wound in his side.
And he lay there as they left him when he came from the Corrida
In his gold embroidered jacket and his red cloak and his pride.
Sonnett - XXVI
© James Russell Lowell
TO J.R. GIDDINGS
Giddings, far rougher names than thine have grown
What The Traveller Said At Sunset
© John Greenleaf Whittier
The shadows grow and deepen round me,
I feel the deffall in the air;
The muezzin of the darkening thicket,
I hear the night-thrush call to prayer.
A Wreath Of Sonnets (11/14)
© France Preseren
As over them malignant storm clouds flew,
Your poet's days were but disgust, despair;
By all the furies harried, he nowhere
Could find release nor any rest he knew.
The Lost Statesman
© John Greenleaf Whittier
AS they who, tossing midst the storm at night,
While turning shoreward, where a beacon shone,
Meet the walled blackness of the heaven alone,
So, on the turbulent waves of party tossed,
The Better Part
© Matthew Arnold
Long fed on boundless hopes, O race of man,
How angrily thou spurn'st all simpler fare!
How Like A Winter Hath My Absence Been
© William Shakespeare
How like a winter hath my absence been
From Thee, the pleasure of the fleeting year!
What freezings have I felt; what dark days seen,
What old December's bareness everywhere!
Dead Leaves
© Edward Booth Loughran
When these dead leaves were green, love,
November's skies were blue,
A Fable For Critics
© James Russell Lowell
'Why, nothing of consequence, save this attack
On my friend there, behind, by some pitiful hack,
Who thinks every national author a poor one,
That isn't a copy of something that's foreign,
And assaults the American Dick--'
The Judgment Of Paris
© Thomas Parnell
Where waving Pines the brows of Ida shade,
The swain young Paris half supinely laid,
Saw the loose Flocks thro' shrubs unnumber'd rove
And Piping call'd them to the gladded grove.
'Twas there he met the Message of the skies,
That he the Judge of Beauty deal the prize.
And Wilt Thou Weep When I Am Low?
© George Gordon Byron
And wilt thou weep when I am low?
Sweet lady! speak those words again:
Yet if they grieve thee, say not so--
I would not give that bosom pain.
At Penshurst
© Edmund Waller
Had Sacharissa lived when mortals made
Choice of their deities, this sacred shade
To A Black Gin.
© James Brunton Stephens
DAUGHTER of Eve, draw near I would behold thee.
Good Heavens! Could ever arm of man enfold thee?
Grey
© Ada Cambridge
Is the morning dim and cloudy? Does the wind drift up the leaves?
Is there mist upon the mountains, where the sun shone yesterday?
Are the little song-birds silent? Is the sky all blurred and grey?
Does the rain fall, patter, patter, from the eaves?
The Bell-Founder Part II - Triumph And Reward
© Denis Florence MacCarthy
In the furnace the dry branches crackle, the crucible shines as with
gold,
As they carry the hot flaming metal in haste from the fire to the mould;
Loud roars the bellows, and louder the flames as they shrieking escape,
My Little Boy That Died
© Henry Austin Dobson
Look at his pretty face for just one minute !
His braided frock and dainty buttoned shoes,
His firm-shut hand, the favorite plaything in it,
Then, tell me, mothers, was it not hard to lose
And miss him from my side,
My little boy that died?
