Time poems
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At The Funeral Of A Minor Poet
© Thomas Bailey Aldrich
[One of the Bearers Soliloquizes:]
. . . Room in your heart for him, O Mother Earth,
The Fable About A Nail
© Zbigniew Herbert
For lack of a nail the kingdom has fallen
according to the wisdom of nursery schoolsbut in our kingdom
there have been no nails for a long time there arent and wont be
either the small ones for hanging a picture
on a wall or large ones for closing a coffin
Here's To Thy Health
© Robert Burns
Here's to thy health, my bonie lass,
Gude nicht and joy be wi' thee;
Tales Of A Wayside Inn : Part 3. Interlude VI.
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The Student praised the good old times,
And liked the canter of the rhymes,
That had a hoofbeat in their sound;
But longed some further word to hear
Of the old chronicler Ben Meir,
And where his volume might he found.
Pharsalia - Book IV: Caesar In Spain. War In The Adriatic Sea. Death Of Curio.
© Marcus Annaeus Lucanus
Should mix with ours, the vanquished. Destiny
Has run for us its course: one boon I beg;
Bid not the conquered conquer in thy train."
The Eld
© Richard Monckton Milnes
Oh! blessèd, blessèd be the Eld,
Its echoes and its shades,--
The tones that from all time outswelled,
The light that never fades;--
Encouragement
© Madison Julius Cawein
To help our tired hope to toil,
Lo! have we not the council here
Of trees, that to all hope appear
As sermons of the soil?
The Window
© Francis Scarfe
In after years, when you look back upon
This time, and upon me, who am no more
Close to your heart nor a shadow in your sun,
Perhaps you will stand still and lean on the door
Or lay down something, feeling quite undone.
The pilgrimage to Mecca
© George Canning
What holy rites Mohammed's laws ordain,
What various duties bind his faithful train,-
To ---, Written At Venice
© Richard Monckton Milnes
Not only through the golden haze
Of indistinct surprise,
With which the Ocean--bride displays
Her pomp to stranger eyes;--
An Ode To The King, At His Returning From Scotland To The Queen, After His Coronation There
© Sir Henry Wotton
Rouse up thy self, my gentle Muse,
Though now our green conceits be gray,
And yet once more do not refuse
To take thy Phrygian Harp, and play
In honour of this chearful Day.
Time
© Jones Very
There is no moment but whose flight doth bring
Bright clouds and fluttering leaves to deck my bower;
Summer Afternoon (Bodiam Castle, Sussex)
© Edith Wharton
And this was thine: to lose thyself in me,
Relive in my renewal, and become
The light of other lives, a quenchless torch
Passed on from hand to hand, till men are dust
And the last garland withers from my shrine.
The Singing Of The Magnificat
© Edith Nesbit
IN midst of wide green pasture-lands, cut through
By lines of alders bordering deep-banked streams,
Where bulrushes and yellow iris grew,
And rest and peace, and all the flowers of dreams,
The Abbey stood--so still, it seemed a part
Of the marsh-country's almost pulseless heart.
A Lament For The Princes Of Tyrone And Tyrconnel
© James Clarence Mangan
O WOMAN of the piercing wail,
Who mournest oer yon mound of clay
Love and Honor
© William Shenstone
Sed neque Medorum silvae, ditissima terra
Nec pulcher Ganges, atque auro turbidus Haemus,
The Age of Wisdom
© William Makepeace Thackeray
Ho! pretty page, with the dimpled chin,
That never has known the Barber's shear,
All your wish is woman to win;
This is the way that boys begin-
Wait till you come to Forty Year.
An Interregnum
© Isabella Valancy Crawford
LOUD trumpets blow among the naked pines,
Fine spun as sere-cloth rent from royal dead.
El Desdichado
© Gerard de Nerval
I am the shadowy - the widowed - sadly mute,
At ruined tower still the Prince of Aquitaine:
My single star is dead - my constellated lute
Now bears the sable sun of melancholy pain.
