Time poems
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A Tale Of True Love
© Alfred Austin
Not in the mist of legendary ages,
Which in sad moments men call long ago,
And people with bards, heroes, saints, and sages,
And virtues vanished, since we do not know,
But here to-day wherein we all grow old,
But only we, this Tale of True Love will be told.
The Waster Singing at Midnight
© Robert Fuller Murray
Loud he sang the song Ta Phershon
For his personal diversion,
Sang the chorus U-pi-dee,
Sang about the Barley Bree.
Amours De Voyage, Canto II
© Arthur Hugh Clough
P.S.
Mary has seen thus far.-I am really so angry, Louisa,-
Quite out of patience, my dearest! What can the man be intending?
I am quite tired; and Mary, who might bring him to in a moment,
Lets him go on as he likes, and neither will help nor dismiss him.
The Tracks That Lie By India
© Henry Lawson
The track that runs by India goes up the hot Red Sea
The other side of Africa is far too dull for me.
(I fear that I have missed a chance Ill never get again
To see the land of chivalry and bide awhile in Spain.)
Ill graft a year in London, and if fortune smiles on me
Ill take the track to India by France and Italy.
The Home-Going
© James Whitcomb Riley
We must get home--for we have been away
So long it seems forever and a day!
And O so very homesick we have grown,
The laughter of the world is like a moan
In our tired hearing, and its songs as vain,--
We must get home--we must get home again!
The Ring And The Book - Chapter I - The Ring And The Book
© Robert Browning
DO you see this Ring?
Tis Rome-work, made to match
Who Is Your Boss?
© Edgar Albert Guest
"I work for someone else," he said;
"I have no chance to get ahead.
The Lady Of La Garaye - Conclusion
© Caroline Norton
PEACE to their ashes! Far away they lie,
Among their poor, beneath the equal sky.
Among their poor, who blessed them ere they went
For all the loving help and calm content.
The Borough. Letter V: The Election
© George Crabbe
YES, our Election's past, and we've been free,
Somewhat as madmen without keepers be;
Advice To Mrs. Mowat
© Anne Hecht
POEM WRITTEN TO MEHETIBLE CALEF, ON HER MARRIAGE TO CAPTAIN DAVID MOWAT, COMPOSED BY HER BRIDESMAID, ANNE HECHT, IN THE YEAR 1786.
Dear Hetty -
Since the single state
You've left to choose yourself a mate,
To An English Friend
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
THE seed that wasteful autumn cast
To waver on its stormy blast,
The Emperor Frederick Of Our Time
© George Meredith
With Alfred and St. Louis he doth win
Grander than crowned head's mortuary dome:
His gentle heroic manhood enters in
The ever-flowering common heart for home.
Theory Of Truth
© Robinson Jeffers
(Reference to The Women at Point Sur)
I stand near Soberanes Creek, on the knoll over the sea, west of
The Crown of Years
© Robert Fuller Murray
Years grow and gather-each a gem
Lustrous with laughter and with tears,
And cunning Time a crown of years
Contrives for her who weareth them.
My Four Little Johnny-Cakes
© Anonymous
Hurrah for the Lachlan, boys, and join me in a cheer;
That's the place to go to make a cheque every year.
With a toadskin in my pocket, that I borrowed from a friend,
Oh, isn't it nice and cosy to be camping in the bend!
Mary Lemaine
© Henry Lawson
She heard a few words, but those words were enough
The troopers were all on the track of Jim Duff.
The super, his rival, was planning a trap
To capture the scamp in Maginniss Gap.
Ive warned him before, and Ill do it again;
Ill save him to-night, whispered Mary Lemaine.
