Hope poems
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Poor Withered Rose
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
Poor withered rose, she gave it me,
Half in revenge and half in glee;
Its petals not so pink by half
As are her lips when curled to laugh,
As are her cheeks when dimples gay
In merry mischief o'er them play.
A Poem On The Last Day - Book I
© Edward Young
When, lo, a mighty trump, one half conceal'd
In clouds, one half to mortal eye reveal'd,
Shall pour a dreadful note; the piercing call
Shall rattle in the centre of the ball;
The' extended circuit of creation shake,
The living die with fear, the dead awake.
The Last Prayer
© William Wilfred Campbell
MASTER of life, the day is done;
My sun of life is sinking low;
I watch the hours slip one by one
And hark the night-wind and the snow.
Ormuzd And Ahriman. Part I
© Christopher Pearse Cranch
YE interstellar spaces, serene and still and clear.
Above, below, around!
Ye gray unmeasured breadths of ether, sphere on sphere!
We listen, but no sound
Rings from your depths profound.
Xantippe(A Fragment)
© Amy Levy
What, have I waked again? I never thought
To see the rosy dawn, or ev'n this grey,
The Burnt Offering
© George MacDonald
Thrice-happy he whose heart, each new-born night,
When old-worn day hath vanished o'er earth's brim,
A Panegyric
© Edmund Waller
While with a strong and yet a gentle hand,
You bridle faction, and our hearts command,
Protect us from ourselves, and from the foe,
Make us unite, and make us conquer too;
Shakuntala Act II
© Kalidasa
ACT II
SCENE A PLAIN, with royal pavilions on the skirt of the forest.
The Squatter of the Olden Time
© Anonymous
I'll sing to you a fine new song, made by my blessed mate,
Of a fine Australian squatter who had a fine estate,
Who swore by right pre-emptive at a sanguinary rate
That by his rams, his ewes, his lambs, Australia was made great -
Like a fine Australian squatter, one of the olden time.
Of Thy Life, Thomas, This Compass Well Mark
© Henry Howard
Of thy life, Thomas, this compass well mark:
Not aye with full sails the high seas to beat,
Hymn XXIV: Saviour, If Thy Precious Love
© Charles Wesley
Saviour, if thy precious love
Could be merited by mine,
Haunted
© Mathilde Blind
Why will you haunt me unawares,
And walk into my sleep,
Pacing its shadowy thoroughfares,
Where long-dried perfume scents the airs,
The Fireside
© Denis Florence MacCarthy
I have tasted all life's pleasures, I have snatched at all its joys,
The dance's merry measures and the revel's festive noise;
Though wit flashed bright the live-long night, and flowed the ruby tide,
I sighed for thee, I sighed for thee, my own fireside!
Mi Musa Triste (My Sad Muse)
© Delmira Agustini
Es que ella pasa con su boca triste
Y el gran misterio de sus ojos de ámbar,
A través de la noche, hacia el olvido,
Como una estrella fugitiva y blanca.
Como una destronada reina exótica
De bellos gestos y palabras raras.
Helian
© Georg Trakl
In the spirits solitary hours
It is lovely to walk in the sun
Along the yellow walls of summer.
Quietly whisper the steps in the grass; yet always sleeps
The son of Pan in the grey marble.
Sonnet XX: What It Is to Breathe
© Samuel Daniel
What it is to breathe and live without life;
How to be pale with anguish, red with fear;
The Idlers Calendar. Twelve Sonnets For The Months. August
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
ON THE THAMES
The river Thames has many a dear delight
In summer days for souls which know not guile,
Or souls too careless of the vain world's spite
