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Best Famous A D Hope Poems

Here is a collection of the all-time best famous A D Hope poems. This is a select list of the best famous A D Hope poetry. Reading, writing, and enjoying famous A D Hope poetry (as well as classical and contemporary poems) is a great past time. These top poems are the best examples of A D Hope poems.

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by Christina Rossetti | |

Aloof

 THE irresponsive silence of the land, 
 The irresponsive sounding of the sea, 
 Speak both one message of one sense to me:-- 
Aloof, aloof, we stand aloof, so stand 
Thou too aloof, bound with the flawless band 
 Of inner solitude; we bind not thee; 
 But who from thy self-chain shall set thee free? 
What heart shall touch thy heart? What hand thy hand? 
And I am sometimes proud and sometimes meek, 
 And sometimes I remember days of old 
When fellowship seem'd not so far to seek, 
 And all the world and I seem'd much less cold, 
 And at the rainbow's foot lay surely gold, 
And hope felt strong, and life itself not weak.


by G K Chesterton | |

The Ballad of the Anti-Puritan

 They spoke of Progress spiring round, 
Of light and Mrs Humphrey Ward-- 
It is not true to say I frowned, 
Or ran about the room and roared; 
I might have simply sat and snored-- 
I rose politely in the club 
And said, `I feel a little bored; 
Will someone take me to a pub?' 

The new world's wisest did surround 
Me; and it pains me to record 
I did not think their views profound, 
Or their conclusions well assured; 
The simple life I can't afford, 
Besides, I do not like the grub-- 
I want a mash and sausage, `scored'-- 
Will someone take me to a pub? 

I know where Men can still be found, 
Anger and clamorous accord, 
And virtues growing from the ground, 
And fellowship of beer and board, 
And song, that is a sturdy cord, 
And hope, that is a hardy shrub, 
And goodness, that is God's last word-- 
Will someone take me to a pub? 

Envoi 
Prince, Bayard would have smashed his sword 
To see the sort of knights you dub-- 
Is that the last of them--O Lord 
Will someone take me to a pub?


by Walter Savage Landor | |

To Age

 Welcome, old friend! These many years 
Have we lived door by door; 
The fates have laid aside their shears 
Perhaps for some few more.
I was indocile at an age When better boys were taught, But thou at length hast made me sage, If I am sage in aught.
Little I know from other men, Too little they know from me, But thou hast pointed well the pen That writes these lines to thee.
Thanks for expelling Fear and Hope, One vile, the other vain; One's scourge, the other's telescope, I shall not see again.
Rather what lies before my feet My notice shall engage-- He who hath braved Youth's dizzy heat Dreads not the frost of Age.


by Ella Wheeler Wilcox | |

Ambitions Trail

 If all the end of this continuous striving
Were simply to attain,
How poor would seem the planning and contriving
The endless urging and the hurried driving
Of body, heart and brain!

But ever in the wake of true achieving,
There shine this glowing trail –
Some other soul will be spurred on, conceiving,
New strength and hope, in its own power believing,
Because thou didst not fail.
Not thine alone the glory, nor the sorrow, If thou doth miss the goal, Undreamed of lives in many a far to-morrow From thee their weakness or their force shall borrow – On, on, ambitious soul.


by Algernon Charles Swinburne | |

The Way Of The Wind

 The wind's way in the deep sky's hollow
None may measure, as none can say
How the heart in her shows the swallow
The wind's way.
Hope nor fear can avail to stay Waves that whiten on wrecks that wallow, Times and seasons that wane and slay.
Life and love, till the strong night swallow Thought and hope and the red last ray, Swim the waters of years that follow The wind's way.


by Henry Van Dyke | |

Life

 Let me but live my life from year to year, 
With forward face and unreluctant soul; 
Not hurrying to, nor turning from the goal; 
Not mourning for the things that disappear 
In the dim past, nor holding back in fear 
From what the future veils; but with a whole 
And happy heart, that pays its toll 
To Youth and Age, and travels on with cheer.
So let the way wind up the hill or down, O'er rough or smooth, the journey will be joy: Still seeking what I sought when but a boy, New friendship, high adventure, and a crown, My heart will keep the courage of the quest, And hope the road's last turn will be the best.


by Sir Thomas Wyatt | |

I Find No Peace

 I find no peace, and all my war is done.
I fear and hope.
I burn and freeze like ice.
I fly above the wind, yet can I not arise; And nought I have, and all the world I season.
That loseth nor locketh holdeth me in prison And holdeth me not--yet can I scape no wise-- Nor letteth me live nor die at my device, And yet of death it giveth me occasion.
Without eyen I see, and without tongue I plain.
I desire to perish, and yet I ask health.
I love another, and thus I hate myself.
I feed me in sorrow and laugh in all my pain; Likewise displeaseth me both life and death, And my delight is causer of this strife.


by Samuel Taylor Coleridge | |

Work Without Hope

All Nature seems at work.
Slugs leave their lair -- The bees are stirring -- birds are on the wing -- And Winter slumbering in the open air, Wears on his smiling face a dream of Spring! And I the while, the sole unbusy thing, Nor honey make, nor pair, nor build, nor sing.
Yet well I ken the banks where amaranths blow, Have traced the fount whence streams of nectar flow.
Bloom, O ye amaranths! bloom for whom ye may, For me ye bloom not! Glide, rich streams, away! With lips unbrightened, wreathless brow, I stroll: And would you learn the spells that drowse my soul? Work without Hope draws nectar in a sieve, And Hope without an object cannot live.


by Percy Bysshe Shelley | |

Lift Not The Painted Veil Which Those Who Live

 Lift not the painted veil which those who live 
Call Life: though unreal shapes be pictured there, 
And it but mimic all we would believe 
With colours idly spread,--behind, lurk Fear 
And Hope, twin Destinies; who ever weave 
Their shadows, o'er the chasm, sightless and drear.
I knew one who had lifted it--he sought, For his lost heart was tender, things to love, But found them not, alas! nor was there aught The world contains, the which he could approve.
Through the unheeding many he did move, A splendour among shadows, a bright blot Upon this gloomy scene, a Spirit that strove For truth, and like the Preacher found it not.


by Louise Gluck | |

Circes Torment

 I regret bitterly
The years of loving you in both
Your presence and absence, regret
The law, the vocation
That forbid me to keep you, the sea
A sheet of glass, the sun-bleached
Beauty of the Greek ships: how
Could I have power if
I had no wish
To transform you: as
You loved my body,
As you found there
Passion we held above
All other gifts, in that single moment
Over honor and hope, over
Loyalty, in the name of that bond
I refuse you
Such feeling for your wife
As will let you
Rest with her, I refuse you
Sleep again
If I cannot have you.


by Dorothy Parker | |

Inventory

 Four be the things I am wiser to know:
Idleness, sorrow, a friend, and a foe.
Four be the things I’d been better without: Love, curiosity, freckles, and doubt.
Three be the things I shall never attain: Envy, content, and sufficient champagne.
Three be the things I shall have till I die: Laughter and hope and a sock in the eye.


by Edmund Spenser | |

Sonnet XXV

 HOw long shall this lyke dying lyfe endure,
And know no end of her owne mysery:
but wast and weare away in termes vnsure,
twixt feare and hope depending doubtfully.
Yet better were attonce to let me die, and shew the last ensample of your pride: then to torment me thus with cruelty, to proue your powre, which I too wel haue tride.
But yet if in your hardned brest ye hide, a close intent at last to shew me grace: then all the woes and wrecks which I abide, as meanes of blisse I gladly wil embrace.
And wish that more and greater they might be, that greater meede at last may turne to mee.


by Andrew Barton Paterson | |

He Giveth His Beloved Sleep

 The long day passes with its load of sorrow: 
In slumber deep 
I lay me down to rest until tomorrow -- 
Thank God for sleep.
Thank God for all respite from weary toiling, From cares that creep Across our lives like evil shadows, spoiling God's kindly sleep.
We plough and sow, and, as the hours grow later, We strive to reap, And build our barns, and hope to build them greater Before we sleep.
We toil and strain and strive with one another In hopes to heap Some greater share of profit than our brother Before we sleep.
What will it profit that with tears or laughter Our watch we keep? Beyond it all there lies the Great Hereafter! Thank God for sleep! For, at the last, beseeching Christ to save us We turn with deep Heartfelt thanksgiving unto God, who gave us The Gift of Sleep.


by Robert Louis Stevenson | |

Loves Vicissitudes

 AS Love and Hope together
Walk by me for a while,
Link-armed the ways they travel
For many a pleasant mile -
Link-armed and dumb they travel,
They sing not, but they smile.
Hope leaving, Love commences To practise on the lute; And as he sings and travels With lingering, laggard foot, Despair plays obligato The sentimental flute.
Until in singing garments Comes royally, at call - Comes limber-hipped Indiff'rence Free stepping, straight and tall - Comes singing and lamenting, The sweetest pipe of all.


by Robert Louis Stevenson | |

To Marcus

 YOU have been far, and I
Been farther yet,
Since last, in foul or fair
An impecunious pair,
Below this northern sky
Of ours, we met.
Now winter night shall see Again us two, While howls the tempest higher, Sit warmly by the fire And dream and plan, as we Were wont to do.
And, hand in hand, at large Our thoughts shall walk While storm and gusty rain, Again and yet again, Shall drive their noisy charge Across the talk.
The pleasant future still Shall smile to me, And hope with wooing hands Wave on to fairy lands All over dale and hill And earth and sea.
And you who doubt the sky And fear the sun - You - Christian with the pack - You shall not wander back For I am Hopeful - I Will cheer you on.
Come - where the great have trod, The great shall lead - Come, elbow through the press, Pluck Fortune by the dress - By God, we must - by God, We shall succeed.


by Robert Louis Stevenson | |

The Vanquished Knight

 I HAVE left all upon the shameful field,
Honour and Hope, my God, and all but life;
Spurless, with sword reversed and dinted shield,
Degraded and disgraced, I leave the strife.
From him that hath not, shall there not be taken E'en that he hath, when he deserts the strife? Life left by all life's benefits forsaken, O keep the promise, Lord, and take the life.


by Robert Louis Stevenson | |

De Ligurra

 YOU fear, Ligurra - above all, you long -
That I should smite you with a stinging song.
This dreadful honour you both fear and hope - Both all in vain: you fall below my scope.
The Lybian lion tears the roaring bull, He does not harm the midge along the pool.
Lo! if so close this stands in your regard, From some blind tap fish forth a drunken barn, Who shall with charcoal, on the privy wall, Immortalise your name for once and all.


by Robert William Service | |

Comrades

 Oh bear with me, for I am old
And count on fingers five
The years this pencil I may hold
And hope to be alive;
How sadly soon our dreaming ends!
How brief the sunset glow!
Be kindly to the old, my friends:
You'll miss them when they go.
I've seen so many disappear That I can scarce forget, For death has made them doubly dear And ripened my regret.
How wistfully I've wished them back, With cherishing to show The gentleness I used to lack In years of long ago.
You, young and fit, will falter too, And when Time's load you bear, 'Twill help if others turn to you With comforting and car; With loving look and tender touch .
.
.
Aye, in their twilight wan Revere the old - for Oh how much You'll miss them when they've gone!


by Robert William Service | |

The Old

 Oh bear with me, for I am old
And count on fingers five
The years this pencil I may hold
And hope to be alive;
How sadly soon our dreaming ends!
How brief the sunset glow!
Be kindly to the old, my friends:
You'll miss them when they go.
I've seen so many disappear That I can scarce forget, For death has made them doubly dear And ripened my regret.
How wistfully I've wished them back, With cherishing to show The gentleness I used to lack In years of long ago.
You, young and fit, will falter too, And when Time's load you bear, 'Twill help if others turn to you With comforting and car; With loving look and tender touch .
.
.
Aye, in their twilight wan Revere the old - for Oh how much You'll miss them when they've gone!


by Siegfried Sassoon | |

Attack

 AT dawn the ridge emerges massed and dun 
In the wild purple of the glow'ring sun, 
Smouldering through spouts of drifting smoke that shroud 
The menacing scarred slope; and, one by one, 
Tanks creep and topple forward to the wire.
The barrage roars and lifts.
Then, clumsily bowed With bombs and guns and shovels and battle-gear, Men jostle and climb to meet the bristling fire.
Lines of grey, muttering faces, masked with fear, They leave their trenches, going over the top, While time ticks blank and busy on their wrists, And hope, with furtive eyes and grappling fists, Flounders in mud.
O Jesus, make it stop!