Time poems
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Dear Old London
© Eugene Field
When I was broke in London in the fall of '89,
I chanced to spy in Oxford Street this tantalizing sign,
"A Splendid Horace cheap for Cash!" Of course I had to look
Upon the vaunted bargain, and it was a noble book!
Gunnar's Howe Above The House At Lithend
© William Morris
Ye who have come oer the sea
to behold this grey minster of lands,
Old Ghosts
© Madison Julius Cawein
CLOVE-SPICY pinks and phlox that fill the sense
With drowsy indolence;
And in the evening skies
Interior splendor, pregnant with surprise,
English Eclogues II - The Grandmother's Tale
© Robert Southey
JANE.
Harry! I'm tired of playing. We'll draw round
The fire, and Grandmamma perhaps will tell us
One of her stories.
The Prophecy Of Famine
© Charles Churchill
Still have I known thee for a silly swain;
Of things past help, what boots it to complain?
Nothing but mirth can conquer fortune's spite;
No sky is heavy, if the heart be light:
Patience is sorrow's salve: what can't be cured,
So Donald right areads, must be endured.
The U-Boat Crew
© Katharine Lee Bates
ALAS, alas for those blond boys who stalk
Their prey in ambush of the shuddering seas,
The Old Play
© Kenneth Slessor
I
IN an old play-house, in an old play,
In an old piece that has been done to death,
We dance, kind ladies, noble friends.
The Philosopher
© Emily Jane Brontë
Enough of thought, philosopher!
Too long hast thou been dreaming
Unlightened, in this chamber drear,
While summer's sun is beaming!
Space-sweeping soul, what sad refrain
Concludes thy musings once again?
Olney Hymn 7: Vanity of the World
© William Cowper
God gives his mercies to be spent;
Your hoard will do your soul no good.
Gold is a blessing only lent,
Repaid by giving others food.
A Sing-Song
© Jessie Pope
" We met,
'Twas in a crowd,
And we thought they would shun us.
We stormed ;
They would not budge,
But they started to gun us.
The Lady of the Lake: Canto III. - The Gathering
© Sir Walter Scott
I.
Time rolls his ceaseless course. The race of yore,
Who danced our infancy upon their knee,
And told our marvelling boyhood legends store
The Beggar Laddies early
© Emily Dickinson
The Beggar Laddies early
It's Somewhat in the Cold
And Somewhat in the Trudging feet
And haply, in the World
In February
© Alice Meynell
To all the miles and miles of unsprung wheat,
And to the Spring waiting beyond the portal,
And to the future of my own young art,
And, among all these things, to you, my sweet,
My friend, to your calm face and the immortal
Child tarrying all your life-time in your heart.
The Ships Of Saint John
© Bliss William Carman
Frenchman and Britisher and Dane,
Yankee, Spaniard and Portugee,
And many a home ship back again
With her stories of the sea.
Sweetheart, Goodbye
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
SWEETHEART, good-bye! Our varied day
Is closing into twilight gray,
And up from bare, bleak wastes of sea
The north-wind rises mournfully;
Elegiac Feelings American
© Gregory Corso
Aye, what happened to you, dear friend, compassionate friend,
is what is happening to everyone and thing of
planet the clamorous sadly desperate planet now
one voice less. . . expendable as the wind. . . gone,
and who'll now blow away the awful miasma of
sick, sick and dying earthflesh-soul America
The Independent Bee
© William Schwenck Gilbert
Her Majesty wore an angry frown,
In fact, her Majesty's foot was down -
Her Majesty sulked - declined to sup -
In short, her Majesty's back was up.
Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz.
Her foot was down and her back was up!
