273 Total Quotes

Hope Quotes Page 9

Emily Dickinson
And this of all my Hopes This, is the silent end Bountiful colored, my Morning rose Early and sere, its end Never Bud from a Stem Stepped with so gay a Foot Never a Worm so confident Bored at so brave a Root
Emily Dickinson
#Hope

Emily Dickinson
Hope is a strange invention -- A Patent of the Heart -- In unremitting action Yet never wearing out -- Of this electric Adjunct Not anything is known But its unique momentum Embellish all we own --
Emily Dickinson
#Hope

Samuel Coleridge,
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. (composed 21st February 1825)
Samuel Coleridge,
#Hope

Samuel Coleridge,
When Hope but made Tranquillity be felt-- A Flight of Hopes for ever on the wing But made Tranquillity a conscious Thing-- And wheeling round and round in sportive coil Fann'd the calm air upon the brow of Toil--
Samuel Coleridge,
#Hope

The Tree of Knowledge we in Eden prov'd; The Tree of Life was thence to Heav'n remov'd: Hope is the growth of Earth, the only Plant, Which either Heav'n, or Paradise cou'd want. Hell knows it not, to Us alone confin'd, And Cordial only to the Human Mind. Receive it then, t'expel these mortal Cares, Nor wave a Med'cine, which thy God prepares.
Anne Finch
#Hope

Friedrich Schiller
We speak with the lip, and we dream in the soul, Of some better and fairer day; And our days, the meanwhile, to
Friedrich Schiller
#Hope

William Cowper
I was a grovelling creature once, And basely cleaved to earth: I wanted spirit to renounce The clod that gave me birth. But God hath breathed upon a worm, And sent me from above Wings such as clothe an angel's form, The wings of joy and love. With these to Pisgah's top I fly And there delighted stand, To view, beneath a shining sky, The spacious promised land. The Lord of all the vast domain Has promised it to me, The length and breadth of all the plain As far as faith can see. How glorious is my privilege! To Thee for help I call; I stand upon a mountain's edge, O save me, lest I fall! Though much exalted in the Lord, My strength is not my own; Then let me tremble at His word, And none shall cast me down.
William Cowper
#Hope

Emily Dickinson
Could Hope inspect her Basis Her Craft were done -- Has a fictitious Charter Or it has none -- Balked in the vastest instance But to renew -- Felled by but one assassin -- Prosperity --
Emily Dickinson
#Hope

Emily Dickinson
Had I presumed to hope -- The loss had been to Me A Value -- for the Greatness' Sake -- As Giants -- gone away -- Had I presumed to gain A Favor so remote -- The failure but confirm the Grace In further Infinite -- 'Tis failure -- not of Hope -- But Confident Despair -- Advancing on Celestial Lists -- With faint -- Terrestial power -- 'Tis Honor -- though I die -- For That no Man obtain Till He be justified by Death -- This -- is the Second Gain --
Emily Dickinson
#Hope

Emily Dickinson
Hope is a subtle Glutton -- He feeds upon the Fair -- And yet -- inspected closely What Abstinence is there -- His is the Halcyon Table -- That never seats but One -- And whatsoever is consumed The same amount remain --
Emily Dickinson
#Hope

Emily Dickinson
Somewhat, to hope for, Be it ne'er so far Is Capital against Despair -- Somewhat, to suffer, Be it ne'er so keen -- If terminable, may be borne.
Emily Dickinson
#Hope

Emily Dickinson
The Service without Hope -- Is tenderest, I think -- Because 'tis unsustained By stint -- Rewarded Work -- Has impetus of Gain -- And impetus of Goal -- There is no Diligence like that That knows not an Until --
Emily Dickinson
#Hope

Emily Dickinson
The way Hope builds his House It is not with a sill -- Nor Rafter -- has that Edifice But only Pinnacle -- Abode in as supreme This superficies As if it were of Ledges smit Or mortised with the Laws --
Emily Dickinson
#Hope

Emily Dickinson
This is the place they hoped before, Where I am hoping now. The seed of disappointment grew Within a capsule gay, Too distant to arrest the feet That walk this plank of balm -- Before them lies escapeless sea -- The way is closed they came.
Emily Dickinson
#Hope

Thomas Hardy
O sweet To-morrow! - After to-day There will away This sense of sorrow. Then let us borrow Hope, for a gleaming Soon will be streaming, Dimmed by no gray - No gray! While the winds wing us Sighs from The Gone, Nearer to dawn Minute-beats bring us; When there will sing us Larks of a glory Waiting our story Further anon - Anon! Doff the black token, Don the red shoon, Right and retune Viol-strings broken; Null the words spoken In speeches of rueing, The night cloud is hueing, To-morrow shines soon - Shines soon!
Thomas Hardy
#Hope

Emily Dickinson
When I hoped I feared -- Since I hoped I dared Everywhere alone As a Church remain -- Spectre cannot harm -- Serpent cannot charm -- He deposes Doom Who hath suffered him --
Emily Dickinson
#Hope

Emily Dickinson
When I hoped, I recollect Just the place I stood -- At a Window facing West -- Roughest Air -- was good -- Not a Sleet could bite me -- Not a frost could cool -- Hope it was that kept me warm -- Not Merino shawl -- When I feared -- I recollect Just the Day it was -- Worlds were lying out to Sun -- Yet how Nature froze -- Icicles upon my soul Prickled Blue and Cool -- Bird went praising everywhere -- Only Me -- was still -- And the Day that I despaired -- This -- if I forget Nature will -- that it be Night After Sun has set -- Darkness intersect her face -- And put out her eye -- Nature hesitate -- before Memory and I --
Emily Dickinson
#Hope

Beneath the shadow of dawn's aƫrial cope, With eyes enkindled as the sun's own sphere, Hope from the front of youth in godlike cheer Looks Godward, past the shades where blind men grope Round the dark door that prayers nor dreams can ope, And makes for joy the very darkness dear That gives her wide wings play; nor dreams that fear At noon may rise and pierce the heart of hope. Then, when the soul leaves off to dream and yearn, May truth first purge her eyesight to discern What, once being known, leaves time no power to appall; Till yoiuth at last, ere yet youth be not, learn The kind wise word that falls from years that fall-- "Hope thou not much, and fear thou not at all."
Algernon Swinburne
#Hope

Gerard Hopkins
. . . . . . . . Hope holds to Christ the mind's own mirror out To take His lovely likeness more and more. It will not well, so she would bring about An ever brighter burnish than before And turns to wash it from her welling eyes And breathes the blots off all with sighs on sighs. Her glass is blest but she as good as blind Holds till hand aches and wonders what is there; Her glass drinks light, she darkles down behind, All of her glorious gainings unaware. . . . . . . . . I told you that she turned her mirror dim Betweenwhiles, but she sees herself not Him. . . . . . . . .
Gerard Hopkins
#Hope

John Keats
When by my solitary hearth I sit, And hateful thoughts enwrap my soul in gloom; When no fair dreams before my "mind's eye" flit, And the bare heath of life presents no bloom; Sweet Hope, ethereal balm upon me shed, And wave thy silver pinions o'er my head! Whene'er I wander, at the fall of night, Where woven boughs shut out the moon's bright ray, Should sad Despondency my musings fright, And frown, to drive fair Cheerfulness away, Peep with the moonbeams through the leafy roof, And keep that fiend Despondence far aloof! Should Disappointment, parent of Despair, Strive for her son to seize my careless heart; When, like a cloud, he sits upon the air, Preparing on his spell-bound prey to dart: Chase him away, sweet Hope, with visage bright, And fright him as the morning frightens night! Whene'er the fate of those I hold most dear Tells to my fearful breast a tale of sorrow, O bright-eyed Hope, my morbidfancy cheer; Let me awhile thy sweetest comforts borrow: Thy heaven-born radiance around me shed, And wave thy silver pinions o'er my head! Should e'er unhappy love my bosom pain, From cruel parents, or relentless fair; O let me think it is not quite in vain To sigh out sonnets to the midnight air! Sweet Hope, ethereal balm upon me shed, And wave thy silver pinions o'er my head! In the long vista of the years to roll, Let me not see our country's honour fade: O let me see our land retain her soul, Her pride, her freedom; and not freedom's shade. From thy bright eyes unusual brightness shed--- Beneath thy pinions canopy my head! Let me not see the patriot's high bequest, Great Liberty! how great in plain attire! With the base purple of a court oppress'd, Bowing her head, and ready to expire: But let me see thee stoop from heaven on wings That fill the skies with silver glitterings! And as, in sparkling majesty, a star Gilds the bright summit of some gloomy cloud; Brightening the half veil'd face of heaven afar: So, when dark thoughts my boding spirit shroud, Sweet Hope, celestial influence round me shed, Waving thy silver pinions o'er my head!
John Keats
#Hope

The first speaker said Fear fire. Fear furnaces Incinerators, the city dump The faint scratch of a match. The second speaker said Fear water. Fear drenching rain Drizzle, oceans, puddles, a damp Day and the flush toilet. The third speaker said Fear wind. And it needn't be A hurricane. Drafts, open Windows, electric fans. The fourth speaker said Fear knives. Fear any sharp Thing, machine, shears Scissors, lawnmowers. The fifth speaker said Hope. Hope for the best A smooth folder in a steel file.
Robert Francis
#Hope

THOUGH now thou hast failed and art fallen, despair not because of defeat, Though lost for a while be thy heaven and weary of earth be thy feet, For all will be beauty about thee hereafter through sorrowful years, And lovely the dews for thy chilling and ruby thy heart-drip of tears. The eyes that had gazed from afar on a beauty that blinded the eyes Shall call forth its image for ever, its shadow in alien skies. The heart that had striven to beat in the heart of the Mighty too soon Shall still of that beating remember some errant and faltering tune. For thou hast but fallen to gather the last of the secrets of power; The beauty that breathes in thy spirit shall shape of thy sorrow a flower, The pale bud of pity shall open the bloom of its tenderest rays, The heart of whose shining is bright with the light of the Ancient of Days.
George Russell
#Hope

The spirit killeth, but the letter giveth life. The week is dealt out like a hand That children pick up card by card. One keeps getting the same hand. One keeps getting the same card. But twice a day -- except on Saturday -- The wheel stops, there is a crack in Time: With a hiss of soles, a rattle of tin, My own gray Daemon pauses on the stair, My own bald Fortune lifts me by the hair. Woe's me! woe's me! In Folly's mailbox Still laughs the postcard, Hope: Your uncle in Australia Has died and you are Pope, For many a soul has entertained A Mailman unawares -- And as you cry, Impossible, A step is on the stairs. One keeps getting the same dream Delayed, marked "Payment Due," The bill that one has paid Delayed, marked "Payment Due" -- Twice a day, in rotting mailbox, The white grubs are new: And Faith, once more, is mine Faithfully, but Charity Writes hopefully about a new Asylum -- but Hope is as good as new. Woe's me! woe's me! In Folly's mailbox Still laughs the postcard, Hope: Your uncle in Australia Has died and you are Pope, For many a soul has entertained A mailman unawares -- And as you cry, Impossible, A step is on the stairs.
Randall Jarrell
#Hope

Soar not too high, O bird of Hope! Because the skies are fair; The tempest may come on apace And overcome thee there. When far above the mountain tops Thou soarest, over all - If, then, the storm should press thee back, How great would be thy fall! And thou wouldst lie here at my feet, A poor and lifeless thing, - A torn and bleeding birdling, With limp and broken wing. Sing not too loud, O bird of Hope! Because the day is bright; The sunshine cannot always last - The morn precedes the night. And if thy song is of the day, Then when the day grows dim, Forlorn and voiceless thou wouldst sit Among the shadows grim. Oh! I would have thee soar and sing, But not too high, or loud, Remembering that day meets night - The brilliant sun the cloud.
Ella Wilcox
#Hope

Though I have watched so many mourners weep O'er the real dead, in dull earth laid asleep-- Those dead seemed but the shadows of my days That passed and left me in the sun's bright rays. Now though you go on smiling in the sun Our love is slain, and love and you were one. You are the first, you I have known so long, Whose death was deadly, a tremendous wrong. Therefore I seek the faith that sets it right Amid the lilies and the candle-light. I think on Heaven, for in that air so dear We two may meet, confused and parted here. Ah, when man's dearest dies,'tis then he goes To that old balm that heals the centuries' woes. Then Christ's wild cry in all the streets is rife:-- "I am the Resurrection and the Life."
Vachel Lindsay
#Hope

I was the laughing-stock of the village, Chiefly of the people of good sense, as they call themselves -- Also of the learned, like Rev. Peet, who read Greek The same as English. For instead of talking free trade, Or preaching some form of baptism; Instead of believing in the efficacy Of walking cracks -- picking up pins the right way, Seeing the new moon over the right shoulder, Or curing rheumatism with blue glass, I asserted the sovereignty of my own soul. Before Mary Baker G. Eddy even got started With what she called science I had mastered the "Bhagavad Gita," And cured my soul, before Mary Began to cure bodies with souls -- Peace to all worlds!
Edgar Masters
#Hope

There was a hope for poetry in the sixties And for education and society, teachers free To do as they wanted: I could and did teach Poetry and art all day and little else - That was my way. I threw rainbows against the classroom walls, Gold and silver dragons in the corridors and Halls; the children's eyes were full of stars; I taught the alphabet in Greek and spoke of Peace and war in Vietnam, of birth and sex and Death and immortality - the essences of lyric poetry; Richards and Ogden on 'The Meaning of Meaning', Schopenhauer on sadness, Nietzsche and Lawrence on Civilisation and Plato on the Theory of Forms; I read aloud 'The Rainbow' and the children drew The waterfall with Gudrun bathing, I showed Them Gauguin and Fra Angelico in gold and a film On painting from life, and the nude girls Bothered no-one. It was the Sixties - Art was life and life was art and in the Staff-room we talked of poetry and politics And passionately I argued with John. a clinical Psychologist, on Freud and Jung; Anne, at forty One, wanted to be sterilised and amazingly asked My advice but that was how it was then: Dianne Went off to join weekly rep at Brighton, Dave Clark had given up law to teach a 'D' stream in the Inner city. I was more lucky and had the brightest Children - Sheila Pritchard my genius child-poet with Her roguish eye and high bright voice, drawing skulls In Avernus and burning white chrysanthemums, teasing me With her long legs and gold salmon-flecked eyes. It was a surprise when I made it into Penguin Books; Michael Horovitz busy then as now and madly idealistic As me; getting ready for the Albert Hall jamboree, The rainbow bomb of peace and poetry.
Barry Tebb
#Hope

Love without hope, as when the young bird-catcher Swept off his tall hat to the Squire's own daughter, So let the imprisoned larks escape and fly Singing about her head, as she rode by.
Robert Graves
#Hope

This country nurtured hope decayed, The politician cruises on a 4WD guzzler, The thief. Feeling the base of his belly. There is a slum in my heart But I cannot relocate it to my foot Nor hand nor back Its rusted tin makeshifts make my blood flow slow. War has filled my heart with bullets, Steel and blood do not mix. A bullet lodged in my head Is another brain of the dead. Africa my home Africa my tomb.
Godfrey Mutiso Gorry
#Hope

Do you believe, in what you see do you believe in reality do you believe in the sun that's bright do you believe in the stars in the night Do you believe in the birds that fly do you
Siddharth Anand
#Hope