Poems begining by H
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His Indian Love to Diogo Alvarez
© Louisa Stuart Costello
When thou stoodst amidst thy countrymen
Our captive and our foe,
What voice of pity was it then
That check'd the fatal blow?
How Graces Are To Be Obtained
© John Bunyan
The next word that I would unto thee say,
Is how thou mayst attain without delay,
Hexameters
© Samuel Taylor Coleridge
All my hexameters fly, like stags pursued by the staghounds,
Breathless and panting, and ready to drop, yet flying still onwards,
I would full fain pull in my hard-mouthed runaway hunter;
But our English Spondeans are clumsy yet impotent curb-reins;
And so to make him go slowly, no way left have I but to lame him.
How Hop O' My Thumb Got Rid Of An Onus
© Guy Wetmore Carryl
A worthy couple, man and wife,
Dragged on a discontented life:
Home Delights
© Charles Lamb
To operas and balls my cousins take me,
And fond of plays my new-made friend would make me.
Hark, All Ye Lovely Saints Above
© Thomas Weelkes
Hark, all ye lovely saints above,
Diana hath agreed with Love,
His fiery weapon to remove. Fa la.
Do you not see
How they agree?
Then cease, fair ladies; why weep ye? Fa la.
Halloween
© Virna Sheard
Hark! Hark to the wind! 'Tis the night, they say,
When all souls come back from the far away--
The dead, forgotten this many a day!
Haunted
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
How restless are the dead whose silent feet will stray
In to our lone retreat or solitary way;
Hope
© William Lisle Bowles
As one who, long by wasting sickness worn,
Weary has watched the lingering night, and heard
Hills Of The West
© Madison Julius Cawein
Hills of the west, that gird
Forest and farm,
Home of the nestling bird,
Housing from harm,
When on your tops is heard
Storm:
Heredity
© John Liddell Kelly
But sadness mingles with my selfish joy,
At thought of what you may be called to bear.
Oh, passionate maid! Oh, glad, impulsive boy!
Your father's sad experience you must share -
Self-torture, the unfeeling world's annoy,
Gross pleasure, fierce exultance, grim despair!
House Or Window Flies
© John Clare
These little window dwellers, in cottages and halls, were always
entertaining to me; after dancing in the window all day from sunrise
Hero And Leander: The First Sestiad
© Christopher Marlowe
On Hellespont, guilty of true-love's blood,
In view and opposite two cities stood,
Half-Views.
© Robert Crawford
It is the half-views are disastrous still;
But size a thing up fully, seize the whole,
And reason then has ground to go upon
For its acceptance or rejection; but
Honey-Suckles.
© Robert Crawford
The sweet dew in the honey-suckle flowers
Tastes of the morning; to Love's palate still
Are tender thoughts so all-delicious too.
Heartsease
© Peter McArthur
IN some strange way God understands
Her dreaming lips were fondly pressed,
The playful touch of childish hands
Her wan cheek lingeringly caressed.
H. C. M. H. S. J. K. W.
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
THE dirge is played, the throbbing death-peal rung,
The sad-voiced requiem sung;
On each white urn where memory dwells
The wreath of rustling immortelles
Our loving hands have hung,
And balmiest leaves have strown and tenderest blossoms flung.
