- H -
- Mary had a little lamb,
Its fleece was white as snow,
And everywhere that Mary went
The lamb was sure to go.
Sarah Josepha Hale, [Mary Had a Little lamb from 'Poems for Our Children', 1830]
- I am the family face;
Flesh Perishes, I live on,
Projecting trait and trace
Through time to times anon,
And leaping from place to place
Over oblivion.
Thomas Hardy, [Heredity, 1917]
- This is the weather the cuckoo likes,
And so do I.
Thomas Hardy, [Weathers, 1922]
- Yes; quaint and curious war is!
You shoot a fellow down
You'd treat if met where any bar is,
Or help to half-a-crown.
Thomas Hardy, [The Man He Killed, 1909]
- We have lost somewhat, afar and near, Gentlemen,
The thinning of our ranks each year
Affords a hint we are nigh undone,
That we shall not be ever again
The marked of many, loved of one.
Thomas Hardy, [An Ancient to Ancients]
- If, of all words of tongue and pen,
The saddest are, 'It might have been,'
More sad are these we daily see:
'It is, but hadn't ought to be!'
Bret Harte, [Mrs Judge Jenkins, 1867]
- And he smiled a kind of sickly smile, and curled up on the floor,
And the subsequent proceedings interrested him no more.
Bret Harte, [The Society upon the Stanislaus, 1868]
- Sundays too my father got up early
and put his clothes on in the blueblack cold,
then with cracked hands that ached
from labor in the weekday weather made
banked fires blaze. No one ever thanked him.
Robert Hayden, from Those Winter Sundays
- There's a one-eyed yellow idol to the north of Khatmandu,
There's a little marble cross below the town,
There's a broken-hearted woman tends the grave of Mad Carew,
And the Yellow God forever gazes down.
J. Milton Hayes, [The Green Eye of the Yellow God, 1911]
- The boy stood on the burning deck
Whence all but he had fled;
The flame that lit the battle's wreck
Shone round him o'er the dead.
Felicia Dorothea Hemans, [Casabianca, 1849]
- For we have thought the longer thoughts
And gone the shorter way.
And we have danced to devil's tunes
Shivering home to pray;
To serve one master in the night,
Another in the day.
Ernest Hemingway, [Chapter Heading, 1923]
- Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
William Ernest Henley, [Invictus, 1888]
- It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.
William Ernest Henley, [Invictus, 1888]
- O gather me the rose, the rose,
While yet in flower we find it,
For summer smiles, but summer goes,
And winter waits behind it.
William Ernest Henley, [O Gather Me the Rose]
- We are the masters of the days that were;
We have lived, we have loved, we have suffered...even so.
William Ernest Henley, [What is to Come]
- Since those we love and those we hate,
With all things mean and all things great,
Pass in a desperate disarray
Over the hills and far away.
William Ernest Henley, [Since those we love and those we hate]
- Where are the passions they essayed,
And where the tears they made to flow?
Where the wild humours they portrayed
For laughing worlds to see and know?
William Ernest Henley, [Ballade of Dead Actors]
- The Farmer will never be happy again;
He carries his heart in his boots;
For either the rain is destroying his grain
Or the drought is destroying his roots.
A.P. Herbert, [The Farmer, 1922]
- Sweet spring, full of sweet days and roses,
A box where sweets compacted lie . . . .
George Herbert, [Virtue]
- Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,
Old time is still a-flying;
And the same flower that smiles today
Tomorrow will be dying.
Robert Herrick, [To the Virgins, to Make Much of Time , 1648]
- That age is best which is the first,
When youth and blood are warmer;
But being spent, the worse, and worst
Times still succeed the former.
Robert Herrick, [To the Virgins, to Make Much of Time , 1648]
- Whenas in silks my Julia goes
Then, then (methinks) how sweetly flows
The liquefaction of her clothes.
Robert Herrick, [Upon Julia's Clothes, 1648]
- Her eyes the glow-worm lend thee,
The shooting stars attend thee,
And the elves also,
Whose little eyes glow
Like sparks of fire befriend thee.
Robert Herrick, [Night Piece, To Julia, 1648]
- Two of a thousand things are dissallow'd,
A lying rich man, and a poor man proud.
Robert Herrick, [Hesperides, 1648]
- Who with a little cannot be content
Endures an everlasting punishment.
Robert Herrick, [Hesperides, 1648]
- Here a little child I stand,
Heaving up my either hand;
Cold as paddocks though they be,
Here I lift them up for Thee,
For a benison to fall
On our meat and on us all. Amen.
Robert Herrick, [Another Grace for a Child, 1647]
- It is the end that crowns us, not the fight.
Robert Herrick, [The End, 1648]
- But as the flounder dooth,
Leape out of the frying pan into the fyre.
John Heywood, [Proverbs, Book II, Chapter V]
- Seven cities warred for Homer, being dead,
Who, living, had no roof to shroud his head.
Thomas Heywood, [The Hierarchy of the Blessed Angels, 1635]
- Time, you old gipsy man,
Will you not stay,
Put up your caravan
For just one day?
Ralph Hodgson, [Time, You Old Gipsy Man, 1917]
- 'Twould ring the bells of Heaven
The wildest peal for years,
If Parson lost his senses
And people came to theirs,
And he and they together
Knelt down with angry prayers
For tamed and shabby tigers,
And dancing dogs and bears,
And wretched, blind pit ponies,
And little hunted hares.
Ralph Hodgson, [The Bells of Heaven, 1917]
- How can you get very far,
- If you don't know Who You Are?
- How can you do what you ought,
- If you don't know What You've Got?
Benjamin Hoff, [Tao of Pooh ]
- Where the pools are bright and deep
Where the grey trout lies asleep,
Up the river and o'er the lea
That's the way for Billy and me.
James Hogg, [A Boy's Song, 1821]
- Build thee more stately mansions, O my soul,
As the swift seasons roll!
Leave thy low-valulted past!
Oliver Wendell Holmes, [The Chambered Nautilus]
- So as from year to year we count our treasure,
Our loss seems less, and larger look our gains;
Time's wrong repaid in more than even measure-
We lose our jewels, but we break our chains.
Oliver Wendell Holmes, [The Angel-Thief ]
- Youth fades; love droops; the leaves of friendship fall;
A mother's secret hope outlives them all.
Oliver Wendell Holmes, [A Mother's Secret]
- Man wants but little drink below,
But wants that little strong.
Oliver Wendell Holmes, [A Song of Other Days, 1848]
- Have you heard of the wonderful one-hoss shay,
That was built in such a logical way
It ran a hundred years to a day,
Oliver Wendell Holmes, [The Deacon's Masterpiece]
- Ben Battle was a soldier bold,
And used to war's alarms:
But cannon-ball took off his legs,
So he laid down his arms!
Thomas Hood, [Faithless Nelly Gray, 1826]
- His death, which happened in his berth,
At forty-odd befel;
They went and told the sexton, and
The sexton tolled the bell.
Thomas Hood, [Faithless Sally Brown, 1826]
- There's not a string attuned to mirth,
But has its chord in melancholy.
Thomas Hood, [Ode to Melancholy]
- Our very hopes belied our fears,
Our fears our hopes belied--
We thought her dying when she slept
And sleeping when she died.
Thomas Hood, [The Death-Bed]<
- Oh! God! that bread should be so dear,
And flesh and blood so cheap!
Thomas Hood, [The Song of the Shirt, 1843]
- I remember, I remember,
The house where I was born,
The little window where the sun
Came peeping in at morn.
Thomas Hood, [I Remember, 1826]
- I slept, and dreamed that life was beauty;
I woke, and found that life was duty.
Ellen Sturgis Hooper, [Beauty and Duty, 1840]
- What would the world be, once bereft
Of wet and wildness? Let them be left,
O let them be left, wildness and wet;
Long live the weeds and the wilderness yet.
Gerard Manley Hopkins, [Inversnaid, 1910]
- Now, of my threescore years and ten,
Twenty will not come again,
And take from seventy springs a score,
It only leaves me fifty more.
A. E. Housman, [A Shropshire Lad, II, 1886]
- Clay lies still, but blood's a rover,
Breath's a ware that will not keep.
Up, lad: when the journey's over
There'll be time enough for sleep.
A. E. Housman, [A Shropshire Lad, IV, Reveille, 1886]
- Oh, when I was in love with you,
Then I was clean and brave,
And miles around the wonder grew
How well I did behave.
A. E. Housman, [A Shropshire Lad, XVIII, 1886]
- With rue my heart is laden
For golden friends I had,
For many a rose-lipt maiden
And many a lightfoot lad.
A. E. Housman, [A Shropshire Lad, LIV, 1886]
- Could man be drunk for ever
With liquor, love, or fights,
Lief should I rise at morning
And lief lay down at nights.
A. E. Housman, [Last Poems, X, 1922]
- And how am I to face the odds
Of man's bedevilment and God's?
I, a stranger and afraid
In a world I never made.
A. E. Housman, [Last Poems, XII, 1922]
- These, in the day when heaven was falling,
The hour when earth's foundations fled,
Followed there mercenary calling
And took their wages, and are dead.
A. E. Housman, [Last Poems, XXXVII, Epitaph on an Army of Mercenaries, 1922]
- 'Will you walk into my parlour?' said a spider to a fly:
'Tis the prettiest little parlour that ever you did spy.'
Mary Howitt, [The Spider and the Fly, 1834]
- I swear to the Lord
I still can't see
Why Democracy means
Everybody but me.
Langston Hughes, [The Black Man Speaks]
- I, Too sing America.
Langston Hughes, [I, Too, 1925]
- Say I'm weary, say I'm sad,
Say that health and wealth have miss'd me,
Say I'm growing old, but add,
Jenny kiss'd me.
James Leigh Hunt, [Rondeau, 1838]
- Stolen sweets are always sweeter;
Stolen kisses much completer;
Stolen looks are nice in chapels;
Stolen, stolen be your apples.
James Leigh Hunt, [Fairies' Song , 1830]
- My mother bids me bind my hair
With bands of rosy hue,
Tie up my sleeves with ribbons rare,
And lace my bodice blue.
Anne Hunter, [A Pastoral Song, 1794]
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