Hope poems
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Astrophel and Stella: 67
© Sir Philip Sidney
Hope, art thou true, or doest thou flatter me?Doth Stella now begin with piteous eye,The ruines of her conquest to espie:Will she take time, before all wracked be?Her eyes-speech is translated thus by thee
Astrophel and Stella: 64
© Sir Philip Sidney
No more, my deare, no more these counsels trie,O giue my passions leaue to run their race:Let Fortune lay on me her worst disgrace,Let folke orecharg'd with braine against me crie
Astrophel and Stella: 59
© Sir Philip Sidney
Deare, why make you more of a dog then me?If he do loue, I burne, I burne in loue:If he waite wel, I neuer thence would moue:If he be faire, yet but a dog can be
Astrophel and Stella: 57
© Sir Philip Sidney
Wo, hauing made with many fights his owneEach sense of mine, each gift, each power of mind,Growne now his slaues, he forst them out to findThe thorowest words, fit for woes selfe to grone,Hoping that when they might find Stella alone,Before she could prepare to be vnkind,Her soule arm'd but with such a dainty rind,Should soone be pierc'd with sharpnesse of the mone
Astrophel and Stella: 49
© Sir Philip Sidney
I on my horse, and Loue on me doth trieOur horsemanships, while by strange worke I proueA horseman to my horse, a horse to Loue;And now mans wrongs in me poore beast descrie
Astrophel and Stella: 43
© Sir Philip Sidney
Faire eyes, sweet lips, deare heart, that foolish ICould hope by Cupids helpe on you to pray;Since to himselfe he doth your gifts apply,As his maine force, choise sport, and easefull stay
Astrophel and Stella: 35
© Sir Philip Sidney
What may words say, or what may words not say,Where trueth itselfe must speake like flatterie?Within what bounds can one his liking stay,Where Nature doth with infinite agree?What Nestors counsell can my flames alay,Since Reason selfe doth blow the cole in me?And ah what hope, that hope should once see day,Where Cupid is sworne page to Chastity?Honour is honour'd, that thou doest possesseHim as thy slaue, and how long needy FameDoth euen grow rich, naming my Stellas name
Hope And Confidence In God
© The Bible
“Blessed be Jehovah, who daily carries the load for us,
The true God of our salvation.
Selah.
The true God is for us a God of saving acts;
And to Jehovah the Sovereign Lord belong the ways out from death.”—Ps. 68:19, 20.
God's Mercy
© The Bible
“As a father shows mercy to his sons,
Jehovah has shown mercy to those fearing him.
For he himself well knows the formation of us,
Remembering that we are dust.”—Ps. 103:13, 14.
Astrophel and Stella: 21
© Sir Philip Sidney
Your words my friend (right healthfull caustiks) blameMy young mind marde, whom Loue doth windlas so,That mine owne writings like bad servants show,My wits, quick in vaine thoughts, in vertue lame:That Plato I reade for nought, but if he tameSuch coltish yeares, that to my birth I owNobler desires, least else that friendly foe,Great expectation, weare a traine of shame
Astrophel and Stella: 6
© Sir Philip Sidney
Some Louers speake when they their Muses entertaine,Of hopes begot by feare, of wot not what desires:Of force of heau'nly beames, infusing hellish paine:Of liuing deaths, deare wounds, faire stormes and freshing fires
A Pastoral Ballad, Absence
© William Shenstone
Ye shepherds so cheerful and gay, Whose flocks never carelessly roam;Should Corydon's happen to stray, Oh! call the poor wanderers home
Shakespeare's Sonnets: When in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes
© William Shakespeare
When in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes,I all alone beweep my out-cast stateAnd trouble deaf heav'n with my bootless cries,And look upon my self and curse my fate,Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,Featur'd like him, like him with friends possess't,Desiring this man's art, and that man's scope,With what I most enjoy contented least;Yet in these thoughts my self almost despising,Haply I think on thee, and then my state(Like to the lark at break of day arising)From sullen earth sings hymns at heaven's gate, For thy sweet love rememb'red such wealth brings, That then I scorn to change my state with kings
Shakespeare's Sonnets: What potions have I drunk of siren tears
© William Shakespeare
What potions have I drunk of siren tearsDistill'd from limbecks foul as hell within,Applying fears to hopes, and hopes to fears,Still losing when I saw my self to win?What wretched errors hath my heart committedWhil'st it hath thought it self so blessèd never?How have mine eyes out of their spheres been fittedIn the distraction of this madding fever?O benefit of ill, now I find trueThat better is by evil still made better,And ruin'd love when it is built anewGrows fairer than at first, more strong, far greater
Shakespeare's Sonnets: So am I as the rich whose blessèd key
© William Shakespeare
So am I as the rich whose blessèd keyCan bring him to his sweet up-lockèd treasure,The which he will not ev'ry hour surveyFor blunting the fine point of seldom pleasure
