Hope poems
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The Ring And The Book - Chapter V - Count Guido Franceschini
© Robert Browning
That is a way, thou whisperest in my ear!
I doubt, I will decide, then act, said I
Then beckoned my companions: Time is come!
Sonnet to Hope
© Helen Maria Williams
O, ever skilled to wear the form we love!
To bid the shapes of fear and grief depart;
A Fairy Tale
© Gilbert Keith Chesterton
All things grew upwards, foul and fair:
The great trees fought and beat the air
With monstrous wings that would have flown;
But the old earth clung to her own,
Holding them back from heavenly wars,
Though every flower sprang at the stars.
Ode to Marie-Anne-Charlotte Corday
© André Marie de Chénier
Le noir serpent, sorti de sa caverne impure,
A donc vu rompre enfin sous ta main ferme et sûre
le venimeux tissu de ses jours abhorrés!
Aux entrailles du tigre, à ses dents homicides,
Tu vins demander et les membres livides
Et le sang des humains qu'il avait dévorés!
To The Summer Night
© Robert Laurence Binyon
A sultry perfume of voluptuous June
Enchants the air still breathing of warm day;
But now the impassioned Night draws over, soon
To fold me, in this high hollow, quite away
Casualty
© William Ernest Henley
As with varnish red and glistening
Dripped his hair; his feet looked rigid;
Raised, he settled stiffly sideways:
You could see his hurts were spinal.
The Prairie School
© Isabel Ecclestone Mackay
THE sweet west wind, the prairie school a break in the yellow wheat,
The prairie trail that wanders by to the place where the four winds meet--
A trail with never an end at all to the children's eager feet.
Coming Home
© Augusta Davies Webster
Anyhow
I've poetry and music too to-day
in the very clatter: it goes "Home, home, home."
When my time is come
© John Le Gay Brereton
When my time is come to die,
I would shun the decent gloom,
Whispered word and weeping eye,
Fitful hum of knowing fly
Questing through the darkened room.
The Angel In The House. Book II. Canto I.
© Coventry Kersey Dighton Patmore
V Perspective
What seems to us for us is true.
The planet has no proper light,
And yet, when Venus is in view,
No primal star is half so bright.
The Shepherds Calendar - March
© John Clare
March month of 'many weathers' wildly comes
In hail and snow and rain and threatning hums
And floods: while often at his cottage door
The shepherd stands to hear the distant roar
The Third Booke Of Qvodlibets
© Robert Hayman
Kings doe correct those that Rebellious are,
And their good Subjects worthily preferre:
Iust Epigrams reproue those that offend,
And those that vertuous are, she doth commend.
Tempora Mutantur
© William Schwenck Gilbert
Letters, letters, letters, letters!
Some that please and some that bore,
Some that threaten prison fetters
(Metaphorically, fetters
Such as bind insolvent debtors) -
Invitations by the score.
Far From My Heavenly Home
© Henry Francis Lyte
Far from my heavenly home,
Far from my Fathers breast,
Fainting I cry, blest Spirit, come
And speed me to my rest.
Pelleas And Ettarre
© Alfred Tennyson
King Arthur made new knights to fill the gap
Left by the Holy Quest; and as he sat
In hall at old Caerleon, the high doors
Were softly sundered, and through these a youth,
Pelleas, and the sweet smell of the fields
Past, and the sunshine came along with him.
The Chapel Royal St. Jamess, On The 10th February, 1840
© Caroline Norton
But brightly to the last,
Fair Fortune shine, with calm and steady ray,
Upon the tenor of thy happy way;
A future like the past:
And every prayer by loyal subjects said,
Bring down a separate blessing on thy head!
The Voyage Of St. Brendan A.D. 545 - The Voyage
© Denis Florence MacCarthy
At length the long-expected morning came,
When from the opening arms of that wild bay,
Beneath the hill that bears my humble name,
Over the waves we took our untracked way;
The Star Of Bethlehem
© John Greenleaf Whittier
Where Time the measure of his hours
By changeful bud and blossom keeps,
And, like a young bride crowned with flowers,
Fair Shiraz in her garden sleeps;
Beneath The Snow
© Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
Twas near the close of the dying year,
And Decembers winds blew cold and drear,
Driving the snow and sharp blinding sleet
In gusty whirls through square and street,
Shrieking more wildly and fiercely still
In the dreary grave-yard that crowns the hill.
Book Eighth: Retrospect--Love Of Nature Leading To Love Of Man
© William Wordsworth
WHAT sounds are those, Helvellyn, that are heard
Up to thy summit, through the depth of air
