Time poems
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Toplesstown
© Sheldon Allan Silverstein
Talk about a hit! They're packed in and linin' up
A cover and a minimum--coffee $2 a cup
Lucy's pullin' down a thousand a week with tips and all
Workin' double shifts while startin' to bitch how
Her arches are beginning to fall.
Old And Young
© Francis William Bourdillon
LONG ago, on a bright spring day,
I passed a little child at play;
Atameros
© John Beevers
The palace with revolving doors was mine
And three of us went up its steps
To the tall room whose walls were made
Of the furred eyes of moths.
The Ghost, the Gallant, the Gael, and the Goblin
© William Schwenck Gilbert
O'er unreclaimed suburban clays
Some years ago were hobblin'
How Like A Winter Hath My Absence Been
© William Shakespeare
How like a winter hath my absence been
From Thee, the pleasure of the fleeting year!
What freezings have I felt; what dark days seen,
What old December's bareness everywhere!
The Reapers In Autumn
© James Thomson
Soon as the morning trembles o'er the sky,
And unperceived, unfolds the spreading day;
Before the ripen'd field the reapers stand,
In fair array.
Dead Leaves
© Edward Booth Loughran
When these dead leaves were green, love,
November's skies were blue,
Bourke
© Henry Lawson
Save grit and generosity of hearts that broke and healed again
The hottest drought that ever blazed could never parch the hearts of men;
And they were men in spite of all, and they were straight, and they were true,
The hat went round at troubles call, in Ninety-one and Ninety-two.
A Fable For Critics
© James Russell Lowell
'Why, nothing of consequence, save this attack
On my friend there, behind, by some pitiful hack,
Who thinks every national author a poor one,
That isn't a copy of something that's foreign,
And assaults the American Dick--'
The Hanging Of Black Kudjo
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
WELL, Maussa! if you wants to heer, I'll tell you 'bout um 'true.
Doh de berry taut ob dat bad time is fit to tun me blue;
A sort ob brimstone blue on black, wid jist a stare o' wite,
As when dem cussed Tory come fur wuck deir hate dat nite!
The Judgment Of Paris
© Thomas Parnell
Where waving Pines the brows of Ida shade,
The swain young Paris half supinely laid,
Saw the loose Flocks thro' shrubs unnumber'd rove
And Piping call'd them to the gladded grove.
'Twas there he met the Message of the skies,
That he the Judge of Beauty deal the prize.
The Earth-Mother
© Frank Dalby Davison
COMETH a voice:My children, hear;
From the crowded street and the close-packed mart
Letter From The Town Mouse To The Country Mouse
© Horace Smith
I.
Oh for a field, my friend; oh for a field!
"Each morning I pass on my way to work"
© Lesbia Harford
Each morning I pass on my way to work
A clock in a tower
And I look towards it with anxious eyes
To make sure of the hour.
To A Black Gin.
© James Brunton Stephens
DAUGHTER of Eve, draw near I would behold thee.
Good Heavens! Could ever arm of man enfold thee?
The Bell-Founder Part II - Triumph And Reward
© Denis Florence MacCarthy
In the furnace the dry branches crackle, the crucible shines as with
gold,
As they carry the hot flaming metal in haste from the fire to the mould;
Loud roars the bellows, and louder the flames as they shrieking escape,
Unfinished History
© Archibald MacLeish
WE HAVE loved each other in this time twenty years
And with such love as few men have in them even for
Speech Of Honourable Preserved Doe In Secret Caucus
© James Russell Lowell
But I've talked longer now 'n I hed any idee,
An' ther's others you want to hear more 'n you du me;
So I'll set down an' give thet 'ere bottle a skrimmage,
For I've spoke till I'm dry ez a real graven image.
