Hope poems
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Grey Twilight
© Arthur Symons
Such a quietude
As fire might drowse to, when its ashes burn.
It was the slumber of a violent life,
It filled me with the peace of energy.
Sonnet XV. From Petrarch
© Charlotte Turner Smith
WHERE the green leaves exclude the summer beam,
And softly bend as balmy breezes blow,
And where, with liquid lapse, the lucid stream
Across the fretted rock is heard to flow,
Thoughts At A Vestibule
© Nikolay Alekseyevich Nekrasov
Heavenly thunder doesn't frighten you,
Earthly thunders you hold in your hands
That is why these unknown men must carry
Grief disconsolate within their hearts.
Laurance - [Part 3]
© Jean Ingelow
But when that other heard, "It is the end,"
His heart was sick, and he, as by a power
Far stronger than himself, was driven to her.
Reason rebelled against it, but his will
Required it of him with a craving strong
As life, and passionate though hopeless pain.
The Idumean Cantos 1-12
© Basilio Ponce de Leon
Along the bridge corpulence
In the form of great pigs
Hopping on pogo-sticks
Is headed for their own
Pilgrimage down Southward.
The Faithful Friend
© Caroline Norton
O, FRIEND! whose heart the grave doth shroud from human joy or woe,
Know'st thou who wanders by thy tomb, with footsteps sad and slow?
Know'st thou whose brow is dark with grief? whose eyes are dim with tears?
Whose restless soul is sinking with its agony of fears?
Whose hope hath fail'd, whose star hath sunk, whose firmest trust deceived,
Since, leaning on thy faithful breast, he loved and believed?
Don Juan: Canto The Seventh
© George Gordon Byron
O Love! O Glory! what are ye who fly
Around us ever, rarely to alight?
Ode I: The Remonstrance Of Shakespeare
© Mark Akenside
If, yet regardful of your native land,
Old Shakespeare's tongue you deign to understand,
The Shepheardes Calender: September
© Edmund Spenser
Hobbinol.
Diggon Dauie, I bidde her god day:
Or Diggon her is, or I missaye.
Stonewall Jackson
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
THE fashions and the forms of men decay,
The seasons perish, the calm sunsets die,
Ne'er with the same bright pomp of cloud or ray
To flush the golden pathways of the sky;
Geometry
© John Crowe Ransom
Hickory shoots unnumbered rise,
Sallow and wasting themselves in sighs,
Children begot at a criminal rate
In the sight of a God that is profligate.
The Angel In The House. Book I. Canto II.
© Coventry Kersey Dighton Patmore
IV A Distinction
The lack of lovely pride, in her
Who strives to please, my pleasure numbs,
And still the maid I most prefer
Whose care to please with pleasing comes.
Hudibras: Part 2 - Canto I
© Samuel Butler
Quoth she, I grant it is in vain.
For one that's basted to feel pain,
Because the pangs his bones endure
Contribute nothing to the cure:
Yet honor hurt, is wont to rage
With pain no med'cine can asswage.
Epitaphs Translated From Chiabrera
© William Wordsworth
I
WEEP not, beloved Friends! nor let the air
For me with sighs be troubled. Not from life
Have I been taken; this is genuine life
Dora
© Jean Ingelow
There is but heaven, for childhood never
Can yield the all it meant, for ever.
Or is there earth, must wane to less
What dawned so close by perfectness.
To The Authoress Of "Aurora Leigh"
© Sydney Thompson Dobell
Were Shakspeare born a twin, his lunar twin
(Not of the golden but the silver bow)
Metamorphoses: Book The Tenth
© Ovid
The End of the Tenth Book.
Translated into English verse under the direction of
Sir Samuel Garth by John Dryden, Alexander Pope, Joseph Addison,
William Congreve and other eminent hands
M'Gillviray's Dream
© Thomas Bracken
A Forest-Ranger's Story.
JUST nineteen long years, Jack, have passed o'er my shoulders
Winter-Thought
© Archibald Lampman
These are the emblems of pure pleasures flown,
I scarce can think of pleasure without these.
Even to dream of them is to disown
The cold forlorn midwinter reveries,
Lulled with the perfume of old hopes new-blown,
No longer dreams, but dear realities.
