Tag Archive | hope

Hope – C.B. Langston


By C.B. Langston

From whence the rapture which I feel
Through all my nature rushing?
The heart’s quick beat? the senses reel?
The cheeks’ enkindled blushing?
Like the bright glowing of the east,
When morn appears, hope gilds my breast.

Where is the cloud whose threat’ning gloom
Cast its deep shadow o’er me?
Masking the sunshine of my home?
Dark’ning the path before me?
The trembling tongue, the anxious fear?
The rending sigh–the bursting tear?

I knelt–my prayer was still and brief,
Like burning lava glowing;
The fiery current of my grief,
A silent fountain flowing;
Parched were my quiv’ring lips, and cleft–
“Thy will be done,” I thought, and wept!

Hope! gentle hope! then from my heart
Rose quickly heav’nward springing;
Like a fair bird with wings apart,
Amid the tempest singing;
Soft o’er my mind its music stole,
And soothed the anguish of my soul!

New Year’s Morning

New Year’s Morning

By Helen Hunt Jackson

Only a night from old to new!
Only a night, and so much wrought!
The Old Year’s heart all weary grew,
But said: “The New Year rest has brought.”
The Old Year’s hopes its heart laid down,
As in a grave; but trusting, said:
“The blossoms of the New Year’s crown
Bloom from the ashes of the dead.”
The Old Year’s heart was full of greed;
With selfishness it longed and ached,
And cried: “I have not half I need.
My thirst is bitter and unslaked.
But to the New Year’s generous hand
All gifts in plenty shall return;
True love it shall understand;
By all my failures it shall learn.
I have been reckless; it shall be
Quiet and calm and pure of life.
I was a slave; it shall go free,
And find sweet peace where I leave strife.”

Only a night from old to new!
Never a night such changes brought.
The Old Year had its work to do;
No New Year miracles are wrought.

Always a night from old to new!
Night and the healing balm of sleep!
Each morn is New Year’s morn come true,
Morn of a festival to keep.
All nights are sacred nights to make
Confession and resolve and prayer;
All days are sacred days to wake
New gladness in the sunny air.
Only a night from old to new;
Only a sleep from night to morn.
The new is but the old come true;
Each sunrise sees a new year born.

Hope by Mary Burns

By Mary Burns 

Hope will not leave me alone.
It stalks me and will not leave me in peace.
It pokes at me again and again
and will not let me stay content
in my defeat.
Wretched hope!

It feeds on my foolish dreams,
it haunts my mind.
It will not allow me to just give up
and accept the status quo.
Begone wretched hope!

A tormentor, a torturer.
Hope sees with eyes none else can see.
Wishing he would go blind,
I plod on and on
because of wretched hope!

I must learn to live with my affliction.
For hope, however wretched,
is better than a living death without it.
So although I complain and wish you gone,
do not desert me, precious hope!


Image from amandakern.com