Related quotes: Hope new born one pleasant...

Dead Hope

Hope new born one pleasant morn
Died at even;
Hope dead lives nevermore.
No, not in heaven.

If his shroud were but a cloud
To weep itself away;
Or were he buried underground
To sprout some day!
But dead and gone is dead and gone
Vainly wept upon.

Nought we place above his face
To mark the spot,
But it shows a barren place
In our lot.
Hope has birth no more on earth
Morn or even;
Hope dead lives nevermore,
No, not in heaven.

poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Related quotes

When I Think Of Myself As Dead

WHEN I THINK OF MYSELF AS DEAD

When I think of myself as dead
I think of what it will mean for my loved ones
I pray they will not lose heart and hope because of it-
When my father died my brother lost hope-

When I think of myself dead
I wonder about God and Godï¿½s purpose
Is there really an afterlife?
What could it mean?
Will I meet again those who have gone before me?

When I think of myself dead
I think about a body in the ground
Worms eating it, cold paining it-

When I think of myself as dead
I think about never feeling anything again-

When I think about myself as dead
I think about the work I have left behind
And whether it will mean anything to anyone
And for how long-

When I think of myself as dead
I think of all the memories that will go with me
I think about nothing and more nothing and the end of the universe-

When I think of myself as dead
I think of life going on down below
Life with all its beauty and pain
And I pray and I pray again
My loved ones will be able to manage and make their own lives still happy

When I think of myself as dead
I pray to G-d
That somehow in some way
It will not be the end for me forever.

When I think of myself as dead
I think of myself as living again somehow
In a way I cannot now know-

poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Were There Hope

I was never in a league of noble gentlemen
To whom she'd cast polite and flitting smiles,
Only distant hope and dying dreams for me!
Or perhaps descent into a game of wiles

To give a chance of sipping wine on heady nights
With her angelic presence to declare;
Above, an aura playing out hypnotic hues,
And I in awe of blonde cascades of hair.

But no! my tiring soul is sinking in a mire
To haunt me for an age and evermore, for
How could I expect to hold her silken hand
When I am but a soulless ghost of yore?

Hope hope hope hope hope hope hope hope?
Hope hope hope hope hope hope hope hope?
Hope hope hope hope hope hope hope hope?
Hope hope hope hope hope hope hope hope?
Hope hope hope hope hope hope hope hope?
Hope hope hope hope hope hope hope hope?
Hope hope hope hope hope hope hope hope?
Hope hope hope hope hope hope hope hope?
Hope hope hope hope hope hope hope hope?
Hope hope hope hope hope hope?
Hope hope hope hope hope?
Hope, hope?
Hope?
Never

poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Astarte

ACROSS the dripping ridges,
O, look, luxurious night!
She comes, the bright-haired beauty,
My luminous delight!
My luminous delight!
So hush, ye shores, your roar,
That my soul may sleep, forgetting
Dead Love’s wild Nevermore!
Astarte, Syrian sister,
Your face is wet with tears;
I think you know the secret
One heart hath held for years!
One heart hath held for years!
But hide your hapless love,
And my sweet—my Syrian sister,
Dead Love’s wild Nevermore!

Ah, Helen Hope in heaven,
My queen of long ago,
I’ve swooned with adoration,
But could not tell you so,
Or dared not tell you so,
My radiant queen of yore!
And you’ve passed away and left me
Dead Love’s wild Nevermore!

Astarte knoweth, darling,
Of eyes that once did weep,
What time entranced Passion
Hath kissed your lips in sleep;
Hath kissed your lips in sleep;
But now those tears are o’er,
Gone, my saint, with many a moan to
Dead Love’s wild Nevermore!

If I am past all crying,
What thoughts are maddening me,
Of you, my darling, dying
Upon the lone, wide sea,
Upon the lone, wide sea,
Ah! hush, ye shores, your roar,
That my soul may sleep, forgetting
Dead Love’s wild Nevermore!

poem by Henry Kendall
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Going Home

Going home sure sounds good, to be at home with the brotherhood.
Home with those who went before, now in the presence of The Lord.
Whether through that veil of death, when I take that very last breath,
Or at that time we upward abound, when we hear the trumpet sound.

A Christian’s death from this sod, is truly precious in the eyes of God.
As He takes you where you died, to bring you to Heaven by His side.
But the Rapture is a special hope, which gives men an eternal scope.
A hope that goes beyond this earth; a hope given to us by New Birth.

I do know that my Redeemer lives, and New Life to all men He gives.
God, who lives in Heaven up above, came to earth to show His love.
He sent His Only Son Jesus Christ, who died for all, to give men life.
Christ then returned to prepare a place, up in Heaven, by His Grace.

A place in Heaven for me and you, so where Christ is we will be too.
Christ has for us an Eternal Home, right beside His Glorious Throne.
Whether the rapture or death friend, this temporal world isn’t the end.
Our end on the earth is only a start, of the hope we have in our heart.

We’re passing by this temporal place, heading home by God’s Grace,
And we’re headed for a Mansion high, prepared for us above the sky.
My friend, home for us is in Eternity, where with God we’ll forever be,
For when we see the face of Christ, we’ll truly begin our Eternal Life.

poem by Bob Gotti
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Hope Dieth: Hope Liveth

Strong are thine arms, O love, & strong
Thine heart to live, and love, and long;
But thou art wed to grief and wrong:
Live, then, and long, though hope be dead!
Live on, & labour thro’ the years!
Make pictures through the mist of tears,
Of unforgotten happy fears,
That crossed the time ere hope was dead.
Draw near the place where once we stood
Amid delight’s swift-rushing flood,
And we and all the world seemed good
Nor needed hope now cold and dead.
Dream in the dawn I come to thee
Weeping for things that may not be!
Dream that thou layest lips on me!
Wake, wake to clasp hope’s body dead!
Count o’er and o’er, and one by one
The minutes of the happy sun
That while agone on kissed lips shone,
Count on, rest not, for hope is dead.
Weep, though no hair’s breadth thou shalt move
The living Earth, the heaven above
By all the bitterness of love!
Weep and cease not, now hope is dead!
Sighs rest thee not, tears bring no ease,
Life hath no joy, and Death no peace:
The years change not, though they decrease,
For hope is dead, for hope is dead.
Speak, love, I listen: far away
I bless the tremulous lips, that say,
“Mock not the afternoon of day,
Mock not the tide when hope is dead!”
I bless thee, O my love, who say’st:
“Mock not the thistle-cumbered waste;
I hold Love’s hand, and make no haste
Down the long way, now hope is dead.
With other names do we name pain,
The long years wear our hearts in vain.
Mock not our loss grown into gain,
Mock not our lost hope lying dead.
Our eyes gaze for no morning-star,
No glimmer of the dawn afar;
Full silent wayfarers we are
Since ere the noon-tide hope lay dead.
Behold with lack of happiness
The master, Love, our hearts did bless
Lest we should think of him the less:
Love dieth not, though hope is dead!”

poem by William Morris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

All Dead, All Dead

Memories, my memories
How long can you stay
To haunt my days
She came without a farthing
A babe without a name
So much ado about nothing
Is what shed try to say
So much ado my lover
So many games we played
Through every fleeted summer
Through every precious day
All dead all dead
All the dreams we had
And I wonder why I still live on
All dead all dead
And alone Im spared
My sweeter half instead
All dead
And gone
All dead...
All dead all dead
At the rainbows end
And still I hear her own sweet song
All dead all dead
Take me back again
You know my little friends
All dead
And gone
All dead and gone
Her ways are always with me
I wander all the while
But please you must forgive me
I am old but still a child
All dead all dead
But I should not grieve
In time it comes to everyone
All dead all dead
But in hope I breathe
Of course I dont believe
Youre dead
And gone
All dead
And gone

song performed by by Queen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

Hope...

without hope
you imagine hope

you must imagine hope
there is no hope you must
invent hope

it is too tiresome
do not believe in hope because it is too hopeless
promises are not popes not pop but poo
pooh,

if there is no hope, accept, hope does not exist
what exists is you and you are not hope
you are real,
you are reality, and hope is lesser, much lesser than you

hope is a tree you are bird
hope is the pebble you are the running water
hope cannot hold you
it is not a cup of water

you are the wind and you are not suppose to stay
hope is a dead tree stuck on its rotten roots

fly away, so, do not just stay there and stare at anything
open your wings, spread and be gone for good

hope is a dead grandmother
and you are the inevitable grandson

least limitable, ongoing movie
swinging tarzan, hot popcorn

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Hope Christ Gives

Many may sorrow and may grieve, but, all those who truly believe,
Have a hope beyond this place, a hope provided by God’s Grace,
When at the passing of a soul, from the earth, they become whole,
And now in Heaven and at peace, in life with God that won’t cease.

Passing from earth, filled with sins, pure life in Heaven now begins,
As the soul enters into Eternal Life; all those who trust Jesus Christ,
And Born of God, from above, as they accepted the Savior’s Love,
When He died at Calvary for them, so that they could be born again.

Made alive in Christ, never to die, though a body before us may lie,
That body is only an earthly tent, while their soul, to Heaven is sent,
To a world that they’ve never seen, a place totally pure and pristine,
Where they shall be the same, but, absent of all struggles and pain.

Now absent of all worry and fears, there’s no more crying and tears;
We may be weeping at their death, but they now have eternal breath,
They’re living now to die no more, having begun to live forevermore,
Where there will be no more night, with the Lamb being all their Light.

This Eternal Hope is for all of us, who accept as Savior Christ Jesus,
This is a Hope for all of those, who know over death Christ has rose,
This future Hope for us is assured, when we know The Lamb as Lord,
Though He died, Christ now lives; this is that Hope, our Savior gives.

poem by Bob Gotti
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Hope For Now And Beyond

The hope we have for when we die, is the hope given to you and I,
To live each day upon this earth, as we experience a Second Birth,
When in Jesus Christ, we die to sin, to live this life all through Him,
As The Lord helps us live each day, while on this life’s Narrow Way.

This is a Hope beyond this place, on a path that’s paved by Grace,
While the path leads us to Heaven, avoiding all the religious leaven;
This Hope is available to all men, when in Christ, they’re Born Again,
Along with the Holy Spirit’s Power, as our guide every day and hour.

Within our heart, He gives us hope, and helps us in this life to cope,
While each day we live down here, we know that God is always near;
Longing for Heaven as we roam, for Heaven, not earth, is our Home,
This is the Hope, in each of us, as we come to God, in Christ Jesus.

Our hope in God, is eternal friend, with a beginning, but with no end,
As our hope begins down here, God begins relieving worry and fear,
As we fix our eyes upon The Lord, our needs, by God aren’t ignored,
While all our needs God shall fulfill, as He works out His Perfect Will.

This Hope, begins with Jesus Christ, Who, holds together, all our life,
A life that goes beyond this world, to a higher realm, not yet unfurled,
As our hope translates into Eternity, to a place no one has yet to see,
And once we’re on that Eternal shore, we’ll be with Christ forevermore.

poem by Bob Gotti
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Who Do You Love, I Hope

I've got the question
I've had it for days
You've got the answer, dear
I'll put the question
In one little phrase
Say what I want to hear
Who do you love I hope
Who would you kiss I hope
Who is it going to be
I hope, I hope, I hope it's me
Who do you want I hope
Who do you need I hope
Who is it going to be
I hope, I hope, I hope it's me
Is it the baker who gave you a cake
I saw that look in his eye
Is it the butcher who brought you a steak
Say that it is and I'll die
Who do you love I hope
Who would you kiss I hope
Who is it going to be
I hope, I hope, I hope it's me
[2]
I heard your question
The answer you know
Love is my middle name
You asked a question
That worried you so
Mind if I do the same
Who do you love I hope
Who would you kiss I hope
Who is it going to be
I hope, I hope, I hope it's me
Who do you want I hope
Who do you need I hope
Who is it going to be
I hope, I hope, I hope it's me
Is it the blondie who acted so shy
I heard the things that she said
Is it the redhead who gave you the eye
Say that it is and your dead
Who do you love I hope
Who would you kiss I hope
Who is it going to be
I hope, I hope, I hope it's me

song performed by by Irving Berlin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

song performed by by Iggy Pop
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

Death

He, born of my girlhood, is dead, while my life is yet young in my heart
Ere the breasts where his baby lips fed have forgotten their softness, we part.
We part. He was mine, he was here, though he travelled by land and by sea,
My son who could trample on fear, my babe who was moulded in me.
As I sat in the darkness, it seemed I could still feel his touch on my head;
He came in the night as I dreamed, and he knelt at the side of my bed;
He murmured the words I had taught when his lips were the lips of a child,
Ere the strength of his arm had been bought and the love that upheld him defiled;
Then my faltering spirit grew bold, and my heart had forgotten its drouth,
And I crooned little songs as of old, till I woke at his kiss on my mouth.
Now waking and sleeping are pain. Nevermore will he kiss, nevermore
Shall I hear his low whistle again at the gate, or his step on the floor,
For to-night he was here while I slept, and this is the end of it all.
Now that welter of darkness has swept us apart, can he come if I call?
Can he come, little chap with the eyes that brought light out of heaven to earth?
Can he come, though the soul of me cries for the joy that I bought by his birth?
I can see but the horror that bids the heart of the mother despair,
The vision that burns on my lids, the face that will always be there,
For he holds out his hands to me, red, and his eyes tell the truth as he stands.
He is dead. He is dead. He is dead. He is dead, with the blood on his hands.

poem by John Le Gay Brereton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Season Of Hope Revised

This is the season of hope
That we are now living in
And there are so my hopes that we have for us
During this seson of hope
We hope to find love
We hope to have peace during this seseon of hope
We hope to be healthy during this season of hope
We hope that we can be happy in our homes during the season of Hope
And we should know that hope will never die for us
So that we must keep on hopping each day that we live our lives here On earth

poem by Aldo Kraas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Season Of Hope

poem by Aldo Kraas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

The First Spring Day

THE sunshine died long ago,
Stifled out long ago,
And the waste of the world was grey,
And night was the best to know,
For night was to doze and forget the day,
To be warm and forgetting and still,
And need not the sun and know not the chill:
But oh, for the day that was darkened so!

Why gaze on a barren heaven,
Void and unchanging heaven,
On a barren earth in the grime,
And not a poor blossom given,
No thing that was thinking of sunshine time,
For a promise, a praise of the past?
And so one forgot the sunshine at last;
And sleep could avail, but what to have striven?

The sunshine wakes once anew,
Wakes and is born anew,
And the Age of the earth grows young,
And heaven has its youth for hue,
And hope is the tune of the spring-bird's tongue,
And the leaves in their prisons all hark,
And blossoms will know there is end of the dark:
One hour of the sun, and the spring-time grew!

The sunshine new on the earth,
Heaven to brighten the earth,
And the deathful dimness gone by,
The barren and winter dearth!
And to-day is the best till the next is nigh,
And to-night is to-morrow begun,
To-morrow, when blossoms remember the sun!
Dead hopes, are ye born with the blossoms birth?

poem by Augusta Davies Webster
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Forever Starts at the End (A Sonnet)

Eternal life will start in my late last.
But who knows death began ere I was born?
A christian needs to die, as it's a must,
Before he could have seen the coming morn.
The day I went out from my mother's womb,
Is just as my death anniversary.
A dead child risen from a woman's tomb,
And breathing dust that lives for vanity.
I'm now alive but died with Him; and then,
Will die to live a life, and will not die
Again of death that doubled-killed the men
Born dead, although, alive, yet passers-by...
The residents of deathless fire where dwell
Those who died dead to die a death in Hell.

poem by Ray Remalig
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Satin In A Coffin

You were laying on the carpet
like you're satin in a coffin.
You said, "Do you believe what you're sayin'?"
Yeah right now, but not that often.
Are you dead or are you sleepin'?
Are you dead or are you sleepin'?
Are you dead or are you sleepin'?
God I sure hope you are dead.
Well you disappeared so often
like you dissolved into coffee.
Are you here right now
or are there probably fossils under your meat?
Are you dead or are you sleepin'?
Are you dead or are you sleepin'?
Are you dead or are you sleepin'?
God I sure hope you are dead.
Now the blow's been softened,
since the air we breathe's our coffin.
Well now the blow's been softened,
since the ocean is our coffin.
Often times you know our laughter
is your coffin ever after.
And you know the blow's been softened,
since the world is our coffin.
Well now the blow's been softened
since we are our own damn coffins.
Well everybody's talkin' about their short lists.
Everybody's talkin' about death.
You were laying on the carpet
like you're satin in a coffin.
You said, "Do you believe what you're sayin'?"
Yeah right now, but not that often.
Are you dead or are you sleepin'?
Are you dead or are you sleepin'?
Are you dead or are you sleepin'?
God, I sure hope you are dead.

song performed by by Modest Mouse
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

Easter Day, II

So in the sinful streets, abstracted and alone,
I with my secret self held communing of mine own.
So in the southern city spake the tongue
Of one that somewhat overwildly sung,
But in a later hour I sat and heard
Another voice that spake another graver word.
Weep not, it bade, whatever hath been said,
Though He be dead, He is not dead.
In the true creed
He is yet risen indeed;
Christ is yet risen.

Weep not beside His tomb,
Ye women unto whom
He was great comfort and yet greater grief;
Nor ye, ye faithful few that wont with Him to roam,
Seek sadly what for Him ye left, go hopeless to your home;
Nor ye despair, ye sharers yet to be of their belief;
Though He be dead, He is not dead,
Nor gone, though fled,
Not lost, though vanished;
Though He return not, though
He lies and moulders low;
In the true creed
He is yet risen indeed;
Christ is yet risen.

Sit if ye will, sit down upon the ground,
Yet not to weep and wail, but calmly look around.
Whate’er befel,
Earth is not hell;
Now, too, as when it first began,
Life is yet life, and man is man.
For all that breathe beneath the heaven’s high cope,
Joy with grief mixes, with despondence hope.
Hope conquers cowardice, joy grief;
Or at least, faith unbelief.
Though dead, not dead;
Not gone, though fled;
Not lost, though vanished.
In the great gospel and true creed,
He is yet risen indeed;
Christ is yet risen.

poem by Arthur Hugh Clough
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
Vote! | Copy!

Hope is a part of Life

Hope is for happiness to an ending
Hope is nothing if you don't beleive
Hope is a shooting star if you see one
Something can never end so, Hope is a part of Life

Hope is delicate from heaven to hell
Hope can't always help the gods
Hope shoudn't be about exciestence
Sometime when you're giving up on something, Hope is a part of Life

Hope can be an empty trail
Hope isn't for punishment or love
Hope is not a welcome guest
When is it that I saw you last time?
is it when we saw Hope is a part of Life

Hope can never be changed
What else that can be hope?
Hope is a passion
Hope can't always save you
Hope is something in Life that doesn't always happen everyday......

poem by Vanessa Sleeth
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Too Late

HOPE? What! hope !—you say there is hope for the long-lost one!
Hope! when the light is out; hope! when the oil is done;
Hope! No, no, good lady! no hope for me, at least;
No home for me but the clammy grave when life has ceased.
Hope! Well, there might have been hope had my mother lived; but, then,
5
God struck her dead, and I was left alone among men.
God knows how I loved her; and shall I never see her again?
Is there no glimpse of heaven for those who are doomed to pain?
Oh, cannot she come and kiss me? Oh, cannot she pray by my side,
As she did long ago on that terrible evening before she died?
10
If she prayed God would hear her, and perhaps—but no;
I'm too old a sinner for mercy—there is nothing for me but woe.

You say that I yet could be saved if I sorrowed for my sin;
That the Lord is at heaven's gate to take poor sinners in!
God knows that I hate my sin, but I feel that it cannot be;

15
I've so often forsaken Him, that He must have forsaken me.
Nay, don't offer a prayer for me, lady, it's only mocking at God:
Who knows but my tired heart still may rest beneath the sod?
For I always loved the sunny fields and the sweet, sweet flowers,
And longed to be pure once again like them, in my better hours.
20

But after I first had fallen the devil opened my eyes,
And I saw that the world knew my shame, and I hadn't the heart to rise;
So I gave up trying to be good, and sank down lower in sin,
Tho' the thought of poor dead mother made me always hate it within.
Oh, many's the night that I've wandered about thro' rain and snow,
25
Wandered about in the street, and didn't know where had to go;
And I've often crept to the river and looked at it, still and black,
And thought how every one spurned me—but something held me back.
I remember how once, when I stopped, half-dead, one rainy day,
To rest on his steps for a moment, the servants drove me away;
30
Drove me away like a dog from the door of the man for whom,
O God! I had given up all in this world and beyond the tomb.
But don't weep at my story, good lady; I'm not worth it living or dead!
Ha, ha! I'm not frightened of Death, nor the devils that dance round my bed:
There cannot be any hell deeper nor fuller of devils and strife
35
Than the hell that burns in my heart, and the fire that eats out life.

poem by Frederick George Scott
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Dead Hope

Related quotes

When I Think Of Myself As Dead

Were There Hope

Astarte

Going Home

Hope Dieth: Hope Liveth

All Dead, All Dead

Hope...

Hope Christ Gives

Hope For Now And Beyond

Who Do You Love, I Hope

Dead Rock Star

Death

Season Of Hope Revised

Season Of Hope

The First Spring Day

Forever Starts at the End (A Sonnet)

Satin In A Coffin

Easter Day, II

Hope is a part of Life

Too Late

En.Citatepedia®.ro

Dead Hope

Related quotes

When I Think Of Myself As Dead

Were There Hope

Astarte

Going Home

Hope Dieth: Hope Liveth

All Dead, All Dead

Hope...

Hope Christ Gives

Hope For Now And Beyond

Who Do You Love, I Hope

Dead Rock Star

Death

Season Of Hope Revised

Season Of Hope

The First Spring Day

Forever Starts at the End (A Sonnet)

Satin In A Coffin

Easter Day, II

Hope is a part of Life

Too Late

En.Citatepedia^®.ro