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The Birth of Love

When Love was born of heavenly line,
What dire intrigues disturbed Cythera's joy!
Till Venus cried, 'A mother's heart is mine;
None but myself shall nurse my boy,'

But, infant as he was, the child
In that divine embrace enchanted lay;
And, by the beauty of the vase beguiled,
Forgot the beverage--and pined away.

'And must my offspring languish in my sight?'
(Alive to all a mother's pain,
The Queen of Beauty thus her court addressed)
'No: Let the most discreet of all my train
Receive him to her breast:
Think all, he is the God of young delight.'

Then TENDERNESS with CANDOUR joined,
And GAIETY the charming office sought;
Nor even DELICACY stayed behind:
But none of those fair Graces brought

Wherewith to nurse the child--and still he pined.
Some fond hearts to COMPLIANCE seemed inclined;
But she had surely spoiled the boy:
And sad experience forbade a thought
On the wild Goddess of VOLUPTUOUS JOY.

Long undecided lay th' important choice,
Till of the beauteous court, at length, a voice
Pronounced the name of HOPE:--The conscious child
Stretched forth his little arms, and smiled.

'Tis said ENJOYMENT (who averred
The charge belonged to her alone)
Jealous that HOPE had been preferred
Laid snares to make the babe her own.

Of INNOCENCE the garb she took,
The blushing mien and downcast look;
And came her services to proffer:
And HOPE (what has not Hope believed!)
By that seducing air deceived,
Accepted of the offer.

It happened that, to sleep inclined,
Deluded HOPE: for one short hour
To that false INNOCENCE'S power
Her little charge consigned.

The Goddess then her lap with sweetmeats filled
And gave, in handfuls gave, the treacherous store:
A wild delirium first the infant thrilled;
But soon upon her breast he sunk--to wake no more.

poem by William Wordsworth
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Ode To Despair

FROM THE NOVEL OF EMMELINE.
THOU spectre of terrific mien!
Lord of the hopeless heart and hollow eye,
In whose fierce train each form is seen
That drives sick Reason to insanity!
I woo thee with unusual prayer,
'Grim visaged, comfortless Despair:'
Approach; in me a willing victim find,
Who seeks thine iron sway--and calls thee kind!
Ah! hide for ever from my sight
The faithless flatterer Hope--whose pencil, gay,
Portrays some vision of delight,
Then bids the fairy tablet fade away;

While in dire contrast, to mine eyes,
Thy phantoms, yet more hideous, rise,
And Memory draws from Pleasure's wither'd flower,
Corrosives for the heart--of fatal power!
I bid the traitor Love adieu!
Who to this fond believing bosom came,
A guest insidious and untrue,
With Pity's soothing voice--in Friendship's name;
The wounds he gave, nor Time shall cure,
Nor Reason teach me to endure.
And to that breast mild Patience pleads in vain,
Which feels the curse--of meriting its pain.
Yet not to me, tremendous Power!
Thy worst of spirit-wounding pangs impart,
With which, in dark conviction's hour,
Thou strik'st the guilty unrepentant heart;
But of illusion long the sport,
That dreary, tranquil gloom I court,
Where my past errors I may still deplore,
And dream of long-lost happiness no more!
To thee I give this tortured breast,
Where Hope arises but to foster pain;
Ah! lull its agonies to rest!
Ah! let me never be deceived again!
But callous, in thy deep repose,
Behold, in long array, the woes
Of the dread future, calm and undismay'd,
Till I may claim the hope--that shall not fade!

poem by Charlotte Smith
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To Dora Dorian

Child of two strong nations, heir
Born of high-souled hope that smiled,
Seeing for each brought forth a fair
Child,

By thy gracious brows, and wild
Golden-clouded heaven of hair,
By thine eyes elate and mild,

Hope would fain take heart to swear
Men should yet be reconciled,
Seeing the sign she bids thee bear,
Child.

poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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Innocence of a child

In the dark of night
you would come
in the silence
of the hour
you would serve
Satan your master
taking the innocence
of a child
destroying a child's life
denying the child
a normal adulthood!

Have you ever thought
of your actions?
what you were doing
by the lust
that controlled you?

Who gave you
the right to take
the child's innocence?
yes, you, who gave you
the right?

After many years
of emotional suffering
a child entered
into adulthood
God embraced
the adult in love

Forgiveness in Christ
becomes the words
in the heart
freedom in Christ
the prize received
The abuser of the child
are then forgiven

Abuser of the child
did you find
God's forgiveness
before you died
many years later
I hope dearly so!

poem by Allen Brodell
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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
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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
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To This Moment a Rebel

To this moment a rebel I throw down my arms,
Great Love, at first sight of Olinda's bright charms.
Make proud and secure by such forces as these,
You may now play the tyrant as soon as you please.

When Innocence, Beauty, and Wit do conspire
To betray, and engage, and inflame my Desire,
Why should I decline what I cannot avoid?
And let pleasing Hope by base Fear be destroyed?

Her innocence cannot contrive to undo me,
Her beauty's inclined, or why should it pursue me?
And Wit has to Pleasure been ever a friend,
Then what room for Despair, since Delight is Love's end?

There can be no danger in sweetness and youth,
Where Love is secured by good nature and truth;
On her beauty I'll gaze and of pleasure complain
While every kind look adds a link to my chain.

'Tis more to maintain than it was to surprise,
But her Wit leads in triumpth the slave of her eyes;
I beheld, with the loss of my freedom before,
But hearing, forever must serve and adore.

Too bright is my Goddess, her temple too weak:
Retire, divine image! I feel my heart break.
Help, Love! I dissolve in a rapture of charms
At the thought of those joys I should meet in her arms.

poem by Lord John Wilmot
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Mother & Child Reunion

Words & music by paul simon
No I would not give you false hope
On this strange and mournful day
But the mother and child reu-nion
Is only a motion away, oh, little darling of mine.
I cant for the life of me
Remember a sadder day
I know they say let it be
But it just dont work out that way
And the course of a lifetime runs
Over and over again
No I would not give you false hope
On this strange and mournful day
But the mother and child reu-nion
Is only a motion away, oh, little darling of mine.
I just cant believe its so,
And though it seems strange to say
I never been laid so low
In such a mysterious way
And the course of a lifetime runs
Over and over again
But I would not give you false hope
On this strange and mournful day
When the mother and child reu-nion
Is only a motion away,
Oh, oh the mother and child reunion
Is only a motion away
Oh the mother and child reu-nion
Is only a moment away

song performed by by Paul Simon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Stories Of Hope Series #11 Adopted Child

The child was brought into this world
By an un wanting mother, did not have
any family, no sisters, no brothers.
But was adopted from birth by a woman
Who was seeking a child, and didn’t
Have any of her own for quite awhile.

This child was loved, like he could never know
Because as a mother her love she did show.
Never had a need or want for anything in life
Never knew about the mothers struggles or strife.

The child at times would question as to why
he was from a one parent family.
She told him that it was the way she wanted it to be.
She loved this child more than life itself
And in her heart this child would dwell.

Then one day before high school graduation
He had needed papers of when and where
He was born documentation.
He knew his mother kept the important
Papers in a metal box- which was always kept locked.

He found the key to the box, and opened it
Up with care, and with his mother the reason
He would share.
He found an envelope dated 1/29/92
Which was his birth date, that much he knew.

He opened the envelope and saw the heading
“ certificate of birth” on the first paper he took out.
As he opened it up and started to read
Where it said parents names, was blank as can be.

He waited for his mother to get home
And then the papers would be shown.
When she got home he asked her why there was no names?
She put her head down and said: she was to blame.
You see: you was left on the hospital steps
With a note attached to you blanket saying:
“She could not take care of you
And this was the best that she could do.”

Being a nurse in that hospital, I fell in love with you
And I went through the process to adopt you.
I have loved you from the start, and you’ve
Filled my soul and heart.
No one can love you more than I
And I will love you till the day I die.

The tears started rolling down her face
And he kissed her tears away.
He said: you are the only mother I have ever known
And because of you, I have a family.
“ that could never change for me”.

I’m so sorry that I never told you my son
And for any hurt that I may have done.
I just wanted to protect you
That is all I wanted to do.

They both shed their tears, and comforted their fears.
He said: I decided that I would go to the court of records
And change it for all to see, that you are
The only mother for me.

On his birth certificate they attached a stipulation
Which read: this woman became his mother from
The moment that he was found
And this case has become world renown.

Because of the hope she had in her heart
Her and her son got a brand new start.

HOPE IS THE KEY TO SET YOURSELF FREE

poem by Louis Rams
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Mother

In her womb she carried her child nine months,
Bliss and joy he brought forth.
Satiate her a ray of hope in newborn eyes,
She bosomed her gracile in first cry;
Nurtured, fostered and fledged.
He grew up a young lad,
Belligerent and wasteful he turned,
Scathe her emotions and physical,
Never heed mother's wist.
deplore her for damsel beauty,
Abandoned and ill he felt;
whence mother's forbearing love aided.
Spued blood for months,
And in no hope of survival,
Mother's earnest prayer and supplication convalesce him,
Lackadaisical and Impenitent natured,
By and by he erst,
Wend the lady who abased him his manhood;
His love forsook,
His last days embodied in insobriety.
On the day of funeral oration;
Mother retold unchanging love for her child,
And tears that never dried,
Bid her son last adieu,
And lived the rest of her life bewailing,
Till one day her body gave away to ageing,
And died a mother whose love for her son
Never be bought by any gold or silver.

poem by Sukkum Chang
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The Emigrant Mother

ONCE in a lonely hamlet I sojourned
In which a Lady driven from France did dwell;
The big and lesser griefs with which she mourned,
In friendship she to me would often tell.
This Lady, dwelling upon British ground,
Where she was childless, daily would repair
To a poor neighbouring cottage; as I found,
For sake of a young Child whose home was there.

Once having seen her clasp with fond embrace
This Child, I chanted to myself a lay,
Endeavouring, in our English tongue, to trace
Such things as she unto the Babe might say:
And thus, from what I heard and knew, or guessed,
My song the workings of her heart expressed.

'Dear Babe, thou daughter of another,
One moment let me be thy mother!
An infant's face and looks are thine,
And sure a mother's heart is mine:
Thy own dear mother's far away,
At labour in the harvest field:
Thy little sister is at play;--
What warmth, what comfort would it yield
To my poor heart, if thou wouldst be
One little hour a child to me!

'Across the waters I am come,
And I have left a babe at home:
A long, long way of land and sea!
Come to me--I'm no enemy:
I am the same who at thy side
Sate yesterday, and made a nest
For thee, sweet Baby!--thou hast tried,
Thou know'st the pillow of my breast;
Good, good art thou:--alas! to me
Far more than I can be to thee.

III

'Here, little Darling, dost thou lie;
An infant thou, a mother I!
Mine wilt thou be, thou hast no fears;
Mine art thou--spite of these my tears.
Alas! before I left the spot,
My baby and its dwelling-place;
The nurse said to me, 'Tears should not
Be shed upon an infant's face,
It was unlucky'--no, no, no;
No truth is in them who say so!

'My own dear Little-one will sigh,
Sweet Babe! and they will let him die.
'He pines,' they'll say, 'it is his doom,
And you may see his hour is come.'
Oh! had he but thy cheerful smiles,
Limbs stout as thine, and lips as gay,
Thy looks, thy cunning, and thy wiles,
And countenance like a summer's day,
They would have hopes of him;--and then
I should behold his face again!

''Tis gone--like dreams that we forget;
There was a smile or two--yet--yet
I can remember them, I see
The smiles, worth all the world to me.
Dear Baby! I must lay thee down;
Thou troublest me with strange alarms;
Smiles hast thou, bright ones of thy own;
I cannot keep thee in my arms;
For they confound me;--where--where is
That last, that sweetest smile of his?

'Oh! how I love thee!--we will stay
Together here this one half day.
My sister's child, who bears my name,
From France to sheltering England came;
She with her mother crossed the sea;
The babe and mother near me dwell:
Yet does my yearning heart to thee
Turn rather, though I love her well:
Rest, little Stranger, rest thee here!
Never was any child more dear!

VII

'--I cannot help it; ill intent
I've none, my pretty Innocent!
I weep--I know they do thee wrong,
These tears---and my poor idle tongue.
Oh, what a kiss was that! my cheek
How cold it is! but thou art good;
Thine eyes are on me--they would speak,
I think, to help me if they could.
Blessings upon that soft, warm face,
My heart again is in its place!

VIII

'While thou art mine, my little Love,
This cannot be a sorrowful grove;
Contentment, hope, and mother's glee,
I seem to find them all in thee:
Here's grass to play with, here are flowers;
I'll call thee by my darling's name;
Thou hast, I think, a look of ours,
Thy features seem to me the same;
His little sister thou shalt be;
And, when once more my home I see,
I'll tell him many tales of Thee.'

poem by William Wordsworth
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Endless Hope

Endless Hope
The endless hope
I’ve tried
I gave it my all
I gave all my hope
To be with you
Endless Hope
That you brought to me
Hope that will never be there
Hope that is empty inside
Hope with no love
Hope that will never came
True
Endless Hope
For us
For friendship between
For all that are lost
You’re my endless hope
Endless Hope

poem by Keith Young
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Mrs. Hitchcock

Hello Mrs. Hitchcock
I hope truly you are doing well
I hope life has been very good to you
But that as time, someday it will tell.
And how are your beautiful daughters
I hope too they are doing fine
I hope they became wonderful women
I hope too they are gentle and very kind.
I hope they are seeking their destiny
In this hard world which we know as life
A hard journey for either woman or man
Or maybe, they became a mother and a wife.
Tell me do they have the beauty of their mother
And also do they have the eyes of their dad,
Do they both like to joke and laugh and enjoy life
And do they cry, when they are very sad.
Do they help others when they are in trouble
The way that you also had taught them to do
And do they sing when they are very happy
And are they virtuous, and also so very true.
Tell me do they also believe in heaven and God
Knowing that he is the reason that they are here
And do they thank him for the mother he gave them
Maybe their life someday, will be someone's mirror.
So once again I hope you are doing very well
I truly hope you have found in life what you sought
Also I hope everyday for you, it is a beautiful day
So again I wish you well, Mrs. Hitchcock.

Randy L. McClave

poem by Randy McClave
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Mother Doorstep

Unto the Person kind there came
A young girl bearing her fruit of shame:
She fell and it had to pay the price -
Innocent Lamb of Sacrifice!

Lovingly then the Person smiled,
Gazing upon the face of the child;
Smiled like an ogress - 'Don't despond! -
I am of children all too fond.'

Then said the mother, speaking low,
Kissing the babe she had born in woe:
'Treat him tenderly-nurse him well.'
Hotly the tears on the baby fell.

Taking the mother's coin with a leer
Ogress remarked: 'Don't cry, my dear,
Motherly persons to me are known,
One is named Wood and another Stone.

'Either of them will your baby keep
Hushing him into a soft, long sleep,
Crooning a lonesome lullaby song;
They have been used to children long.'

Cold and yet kind was the nurse's breast;
Cold fell the rain on the babe at rest;
Pale was his face as an immortelle,
Old Mother Doorstep had nursed him well.

poem by Victor James Daley
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Innocence Lost

I can't relive my life
I can't retrace my tracks
I can't undo what's done
There is no going back
I chased a selfish dream
Did not survey the cost
Illusions disappeared
I've found my innocence lost
Some say it's lessons learned
Some say it's a living life
I say it's choices made
Knowing wrong from right
One night I fought to sleep
In my slumber I turned and tossed
I woke to a cloudy day
And found my innocence lost
Innocent child is a beautiful thing
Secure in her father's arms
Sleeps while a mother sings
There's no way to know
All the harm this world can bring
I miss my innocence
Oh, to be innocent
My heavenly Father
The well of eternal love
That overflows with grace
I can completely trust
My broken heart repaired
And all my sin forgot
I can be pure again
In spite of my innocence lost
In his eyes I'm a newborn child
Cuz I accept his love
I have a newfound hope
Though I've found my innocence lost
I can be pure again
I've found my innocence lost

song performed by by Amy Grant
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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