Hope poems

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439

Lady Surrey's Lament For Her Absent Lord

© Henry Howard

Good ladies, you that have your pleasure in exile,

Step in your foot, come take a place, and mourn with me a while,

IX.
MY dream was past; it had no further change.
It was of a strange order, that the doom
Of these two creatures should be thus traced out
Almost like a reality - the one
To end in madness - both in misery.

Elegy I. He Arrives at His Retirement in the Country

© William Shenstone

For rural virtues, and for native skies,
I bade Augusta's venal sons farewell;
Now 'mid the trees I see my smoke arise,
Now hear the fountains bubbling round my cell.

Sister Songs-An Offering To Two Sisters - Part The Second

© Francis Thompson

'Tis a vision:
Yet the greeneries Elysian
He has known in tracts afar;
Thus the enamouring fountains flow,
Those the very palms that grow,
By rare-gummed Sava, or Herbalimar. -

What Chris'mas Fetched The Wigginses

© James Whitcomb Riley

Wintertime, er Summertime,

Of late years I notice I'm,

Paradise Lost : Book I.

© John Milton

Of Man's first disobedience, and the fruit

Of that forbidden tree whose mortal taste

Everyday Characters IV - My Partner

© Winthrop Mackworth Praed

"There is, perhaps, no subject of more universal interest in the whole range of natural knowledge, than that of the unceasing fluctuations which take place in the atmosphere in which we are immersed."

-- British Almanack.

Rokeby: Canto I.

© Sir Walter Scott

I.

The Moon is in her summer glow,

A Sun-Day Hymn

© Oliver Wendell Holmes

LORD of all being! throned afar,
Thy glory flames from sun and star;
Centre and soul of every sphere,
Yet to each loving heart how near!

Italy : 17. The Gondola

© Samuel Rogers

Boy, call the Gondola; the sun is set.----
It came, and we embarked; but instantly,
As at the waving of a magic wand,
Though she had stept on board so light of foot,

Fragments from 'Genius Lost'

© Charles Harpur

Prelude
I SEE the boy-bard neath lifes morning skies,
While hopes bright cohorts guess not of defeat,
And ardour lightens from his earnest eyes,
And faiths cherubic wings around his being beat.

Lines Written At Venice In 1865

© Frances Anne Kemble

Sleep, Venice, sleep! the evening gun resounds

Over the waves that rock thee on their breast;

The Sage Enamoured And The Honest Lady

© George Meredith

Our world believes it stabler if the soft
Are whipped to show the face repentance wears.
Then hear it, in a moan of atheist gloom,
Deplore the weedy growth of hypocrites;
Count Nature devilish, and accept for doom
The chasm between our passions and our wits!

To Our President

HOPE of the Nations, lift thy stricken heart.

Thyself art Sorrow, and to thee the cry

Red Jacket

COOPER, whose name is with his country's woven,
First in her files, her PIONEER of mind
A wanderer now in other climes, has proven
His love for the young land he left behind;