Top 100 Poems About: DESPAIR
Top 100 Poems on / about
1.A Dream Within A Dream
Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow-
You are not wrong, who deem read more »Edgar Allan Poe
2.A Meeting With Despair
AS evening shaped I found me on a moor
Which sight could scarce sustain:
The black lean land, of featureless contour,
Was like a tract in pain. read more »Thomas Hardy
3.A Song Of Despair
The memory of you emerges from the night around me.
The river mingles its stubborn lament with the sea. read more »Pablo Neruda
From childhood's hour I have not been
As others were; I have not seen
As others saw; I could not bring
My passions from a common spring. read more »Edgar Allan Poe
5.A Last Word
Let us go hence: the night is now at hand;
The day is overworn, the birds all flown;
And we have reaped the crops the gods have sown;
Despair and death; deep darkness o'er the land, read more »Ernest Christopher Dowson
6.The Song Of Despair
You swallowed everything, like distance.
Like the sea, like time.
In you everything sank!
It was the happy hour of assault and the kiss. read more »Pablo Neruda
7.Despair's Advantage Is Achieved
Despair's advantage is achieved
By suffering—Despair— read more »Emily Dickinson
8.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 read more »Charlotte Smith
I have experienc'd
The worst, the World can wreak on me--the worst
That can make Life indifferent, yet disturb
With whisper'd Discontents the dying prayer-- read more »Samuel Taylor Coleridge
10.Sonnet 144: Two Loves I Have, Of Comfort And Despair
Two loves I have, of comfort and despair,
Which like two spirits do suggest me still:
The better angel is a man right fair,
The worser spirit a woman coloured ill. read more »William Shakespeare
11.Sonnet Xxvi: I Ever Love
I ever love where never hope appears,
Yet hope draws on my never-hoping care, read more »Michael Drayton
Ask not the pallid stranger's woe,
With beating heart and throbbing breast,
Whose step is faltering, weak, and slow, read more »Percy Bysshe Shelley