Hope poems
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Hope
© William Cowper
Ask what is human life -- the sage replies,
With disappointment lowering in his eyes,
Rubaiyat 17
© Shams al-Din Hafiz
With fate you still hope to trade;
Passage of time should make you afraid.
You said no color comes after black,
I said my black hair to white degrade.
The Female Martyr
© John Greenleaf Whittier
"BRING out your dead!" The midnight street
Heard and gave back the hoarse, low call;
Betrothed
© Augusta Davies Webster
I DID not think to love her. As we go
We pluck a hedge-rose blushing in its sheath,
Spirit Voices
© Denis Florence MacCarthy
There are voices, spirit voices,
Sweetly sounding everywhere,
The Little Left Hand - Act II
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Lady Marian. Send
For others then. I see a girl at the street's end
Selling some mignonette. What do you say?
(Putting on a bow.) This bow,
Is it too bright for the rest?
Brings me hope
© Shams al-Din Hafiz
WHAT drunkenness is this that brings me hope--
Who was the Cup-bearer, and whence the wine?
That minstrel singing with full voice divine,
What lay was his? for 'mid the woven rope
Of song, he brought word from my Friend to me
Set to his melody.
David And Goliath. A Sacred Drama
© Hannah More
Great Lord of all things! Power divine!
Breathe on this erring heart of mine
Thy grace serene and pure:
Defend my frail, my erring youth,
And teach me this important truth--
The humble are secure!
The Heroic Enthusiasts - Part The First =Third Dialogue.=
© Giordano Bruno
CIC. I do not believe it is always like that, Tansillo; because,
sometimes, notwithstanding that we discover the spirit to be vicious, we
remain heated and entangled; so that, although reason perceives the evil
and unworthiness of such a love, it yet has not power to alienate the
disordered appetite. In this disposition, I believe, was the Nolano when
he said:
The Revolt Of Islam: Canto I-XII
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
There is no danger to a man, that knows
What life and death is: there's not any law
Exceeds his knowledge; neither is it lawful
That he should stoop to any other law.
-Chapman.
The Summons
© John Greenleaf Whittier
MY ear is full of summer sounds,
Of summer sights my languid eye;
Book Twelfth [Imagination And Taste, How Impaired And Restored ]
© William Wordsworth
What wonder, then, if, to a mind so far
Perverted, even the visible Universe
Fell under the dominion of a taste
Less spiritual, with microscopic view
Was scanned, as I had scanned the moral world?
June On The Merrimac
© John Greenleaf Whittier
O dwellers in the stately towns,
What come ye out to see?
This common earth, this common sky,
This water flowing free?
Bigtime
© Sheldon Allan Silverstein
Hey dragged up my holly and I pull it to a town for the bigtime
Hey rig down the road I tore 'em down I'm a bigtime
I wheeled right in them swinging doors
Out through the window with half of that store
An Incident In A Railroad Car
© James Russell Lowell
He spoke of Burns: men rude and rough
Pressed round to hear the praise of one
Whose heart was made of manly, simple stuff,
As homespun as their own.
Hay-Cutters
© William Stafford
Time tells them. They go along touching
the grass, the feathery ends. When it feels
just so, they start the mowing machine,
leaving the land its long windrows,
and air strokes the leaves dry.
Planting the Sand Cherry by Ann Struthers: American Life in Poetry #171 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laurea
© Ted Kooser
Sometimes I think that people are at their happiest when they're engaged in activities close to the work of the earliest humans: telling stories around a fire, taking care of children, hunting, making clothes. Here an Iowan, Ann Struthers, speaks of one of those original tasks, digging in the dirt.
Planting the Sand Cherry
