Hope poems

/ page 83 of 439 /

Order by :

1
. . .
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
. . .
439

The Progress of Spring

© Alfred Tennyson

THE groundflame of the crocus breaks the mould,

Fair Spring slides hither o'er the Southern sea,

Doctor B. Of Tears

© Sir Henry Wotton

Who would have thought, there could have bin

Such joy in tears, wept for our sin?

IF LIFE were rosy and skies were blue
And never a cloud appeared,
If every heart that you loved proved true,
And never a friendship seared;
If there were no troubles to fret your soul,
You never would struggle to gain your goal.

Wind-Clouds And Star-Drifts

© Oliver Wendell Holmes

Here am I, bound upon this pillared rock,
Prey to the vulture of a vast desire
That feeds upon my life. I burst my bands
And steal a moment's freedom from the beak,
The clinging talons and the shadowing plumes;
Then comes the false enchantress, with her song;

To an Old Grammar

© Martha M Simpson

Oh, mighty conjuror, you raise
The ghost of my lost youth -
The happy, golden-tinted days
When earth her treasure-trove displays,
And everything is truth.

Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam 251-500 (Whinfield Translation)

© Omar Khayyám

Are you depressed? Then take of bhang one grain,
Of rosy grape-juice take one pint or twain;
Sufis, you say, must not take this or that,
Then go and eat the pebbles off the plain!

Paradise Lost : Book IV.

© John Milton

O, for that warning voice, which he, who saw

The Apocalypse, heard cry in Heaven aloud,

The Golden Yesterday

© Roderic Quinn

AFTER a spell of chill, grey weather,
(Green, O green, are the feet of Spring!)
The heaven is here of flower and feather,
Of wild red blossom and flashing wing.

The Progress Of Refinement. Part III.

© Henry James Pye

CONTENTS OF PART III. Introduction.Comparison of ancient and modern Manners. Peculiar softness of the latter.Humanity in War. Politeness.Enquiry into the causes.Purity of the Christian Religion.Abolition of Slavery in Europe. Remaining effects of Chivalry.The behaviour of Edward the Black Prince, after the battle of Poitiers, contrasted with a Roman Triumph.Tendency of firearms to abate the ferocity of war.Duelling.Society of Women.Consequent prevalence of Love in poetical compositions. Softness of the modern Drama.Shakespear admired, but not imitated.Sentimental Comedy.Novels. Diffusion of superficial knowledge.Prevalence of Gaming in every state of mankind.Peculiar effect of the universal influence of Cards on modern times.Luxury. Enquiry why it does not threaten Europe now, with the fatal consequences it brought on ancient Rome.Indolence, and Gluttony, checked by the free intercourse with women.Their dislike to effeminate men.The frequent wars among the European Nations keep up a martial spirit.Point of Honor.Hereditary Nobility.Peculiar situation of Britain.Effects of Commerce when carried to excess.Danger when money becomes the sole distinction. Address to Men of ancient and noble families. Address to the Ladies.The Decline of their influence, a sure fore-runner of selfish Luxury.Recapitulation and Conclusion.

Na Audiart

© Ezra Pound

Though thou well dost wish me ill

Audiart, Audiart,

The Last Envoy

© Edith Nesbit

THIS wind, that through the silent woodland blows,
O'er rippling corn and dreaming pastures goes
Straight to the garden where the heart of spring
Faints in the heart of summer's earliest rose.

O'er Thee, Misfortune, I Have Ceased To Wail

© France Preseren

O'er thee, Misfortune, I have ceased to wail,
I'll utter no reproaches any more.
Thank God, I'm used to griefs thou hast in store
And to the sufferings in life's strong jail.

On Going Home For Christmas

He little knew the sorrow that was in his vacant chair;
He never guessed they'd miss him, or he'd surely have been there;
He couldn't see his mother or the lump that filled her throat,
Or the tears that started falling as she read his hasty note;
And he couldn't see his father, sitting sorrowful and dumb,
Or he never would have written that he thought he couldn't come.

Views Of Life

© Anne Brontë

When sinks my heart in hopeless gloom,
And life can show no joy for me;
And I behold a yawning tomb,
Where bowers and palaces should be;

Moon-Struck

IT is a moor
Barren and treeless; lying high and bare
Beneath the archèd sky. The rushing winds
Fly over it, each with his strong bow bent
And quiver full of whistling arrows keen.