Hope poems
/ page 73 of 439 /Dedication
© Caroline Norton
ONCE more, my harp! once more, although I thought
Never to wake thy silent strings again,
A wandering dream thy gentle chords have wrought,
And my sad heart, which long hath dwelt in pain,
Soars, like a wild bird from a cypress bough,
Into the poet's Heaven, and leaves dull grief below!
Sonnet VI. To Hope
© Charlotte Turner Smith
OH, Hope! thou soother sweet of human woes.
How shall I lure thee to my haunts forlorn?
For me wilt thou renew the wither'd rose,
And clear my painful path of pointed thorn?
The Dawn Wind
© Rudyard Kipling
So do the cows in the field. They graze for an hour and lie down,
Dozing and chewing the cud; or a bird in the ivy wakes,
Chirrups one note and is still, and the restless Wind stares on,
Fidgeting far down the road, till, softly, the darkness breaks.
Pharsalia - Book IV: Caesar In Spain. War In The Adriatic Sea. Death Of Curio.
© Marcus Annaeus Lucanus
Should mix with ours, the vanquished. Destiny
Has run for us its course: one boon I beg;
Bid not the conquered conquer in thy train."
The Light
© Henry Cuyler Bunner
And I, remaining here and waiting long,
And all enfolded in my sorrows night,
Who not on earth again her face may see,
For even Memory does her likeness wrong,
Am blind and hopeless, only for this light
This light, this light, through all the years to be.
Encouragement
© Madison Julius Cawein
To help our tired hope to toil,
Lo! have we not the council here
Of trees, that to all hope appear
As sermons of the soil?
The pilgrimage to Mecca
© George Canning
What holy rites Mohammed's laws ordain,
What various duties bind his faithful train,-
Translation Of The Romaic Song
© George Gordon Byron
I enter thy garden of roses,
Beloved and fair Haidée,
Songs In The Masque Of Alfred: To Alfred
© James Thomson
First Spirit.
Hear, Alfred, father of the state,
Thy genius Heaven's high will declare!
What proves the hero truly great,
Is never, never to despair:
Is never to despair.
The Clock
© Francis Scarfe
Far away is one who now is sleeping
In the same world and the same darkness,
An Ode To The King, At His Returning From Scotland To The Queen, After His Coronation There
© Sir Henry Wotton
Rouse up thy self, my gentle Muse,
Though now our green conceits be gray,
And yet once more do not refuse
To take thy Phrygian Harp, and play
In honour of this chearful Day.
To My Lord Buckhurst, Very Young, Playing With A Cat
© Matthew Prior
The amorous youth, whose tender breast
Was by his darling Cat possest,
Lament.
© Arthur Henry Adams
PEACE, your little child is dead:
Peace, I cannot weep with you;
I have no more tears to shed;
I have mourned my baby too
A Lament For The Princes Of Tyrone And Tyrconnel
© James Clarence Mangan
O WOMAN of the piercing wail,
Who mournest oer yon mound of clay
A College Career
© Robert Fuller Murray
I
When one is young and eager,
A bejant and a boy,
Though his moustache be meagre,