Hope poems
/ page 96 of 439 /
Mr. Francis Beaumont's Letter to Ben Jonson
© Francis Beaumont
The sun, which doth the greatest comfort bring
To absent friends (because the self-same thing
To Albius Tibullus
© Eugene Field
Not to lament that rival flame
Wherewith the heartless Glycera scorns you,
Nor waste your time in maudlin rhyme,
How many a modern instance warns you!
The Wreck of the Whaler 'Oscar'
© William Topaz McGonagall
'Twas on the 1st of April, and in the year of Eighteen thirteen,
That the whaler "Oscar" was wrecked not far from Aberdeen;
'Twas all on a sudden the wind arose, and a terrific blast it blew,
And the "Oscar" was lost, and forty-two of a gallant crew.
Sonnet XLIII: Love and Hope
© Dante Gabriel Rossetti
Bless love and hope. Full many a withered year
Whirled past us, eddying to its chill doomsday;
The Aeneid of Virgil: Book 2
© Publius Vergilius Maro
ALL were attentive to the godlike man,
When from his lofty couch he thus began:
Elegy (Tir'd With The Busy Crouds)
© James Beattie
Tir'd with the busy crouds, that all the day
Impatient throng where Folly's altars flame,
My languid powers dissolve with quick decay,
Till genial Sleep repair the sinking frame.
A Prayer in Time of War
© Alfred Noyes
Thou, whose deep ways are in the sea,
Whose footsteps are not known,
To-night a world that turned from Thee
Is waiting - at Thy Throne.
At Pompeii
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
At Pompeii I heard a woman laugh,
And turned to find the reason of her mirth;
Clare's Dragoons
© Thomas Osborne Davis
_Viva la_, for Ireland's wrong!
_Viva la_, for Ireland's right!
_Viva la_, in battle throng,
For a Spanish steed, and sabre bright!
The Sister
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
WHAT is balm for a soul distressed, O! sailor tell to me ?
A good ship in a fighting wind glad of an angry sea.
The leaping timbers 'neath your feet, the salt upon your cheek,
Never soul could mourn, my sister, O! never heart could break."
To My Daughter
© Victor Marie Hugo
My child! thou seest me content to lead
A lonely life. Do thou, in imitation,
Not happy, nor triumphant, learn the need
Of resignation.
The Authors: A Satire
© Richard Savage
"HOLD, Criticks cry-Erroneous are your Lays,
"Your Field was Satire, your Pursuit is Praise."
True, you Profound!-I praise, but yet I sneer;
You're dark to Beauties, if to Errors clear!
Know my Lampoon's in Panegyric seen,
For just Applause turns Satire on your Spleen.
Song Of The Hindustanee Minstrel
© Henry Louis Vivian Derozio
With surmah tinge the black eye's fringe,
'Twill sparkle like a star;
With roses dress each raven tress,
My only loved Dildar!
The Witch of Hebron
© Charles Harpur
Of golden lamps, showed many a treasure rare
Of Indian and Armenian workmanship
Which might have seemed a wonder of the world:
And trains of servitors of every clime,
Greeks, Persians, Indians, Ethiopians,
In richest raiment thronged the spacious halls.
The Spirit Of The Age
© Christopher Pearse Cranch
A wondrous light is filling the air,
And rimming the clouds of the old despair;
Chloe
© Edith Nesbit
NIGHT wind sighing through the poplar leaves,
Trembling of the aspen, shivering of the willow,
Every leafy voice of all the night-time grieves,
Mourning, weeping over Chloe's pillow.
On The Slaughter
© Hayyim Nahman Bialik
Heaven, beg mercy for me! If there is
a God in you, a pathway through
The Planting
© Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
PLANT it safe and sure, my child,
Then cease watching and cease weeping;
You have done your utmost part:
Leave it with a quiet heart:
It will grow while you are sleeping.
