Time poems
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A Perfect Sonnet
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Oh, for a perfect sonnet of all time!
Wild music, heralding immortal hopes,
Strikes the bold prelude. To it from each clime,
Like tropic birds on some green island slopes,
Elegy XIX. - Written in Spring, 1743
© William Shenstone
Again the labouring hind inverts the soil;
Again the merchant ploughs the tumid wave;
Another spring renews the soldier's toil,
And finds me vacant in the rural cave.
To A Friend
© Joseph Rodman Drake
YES, faint was my applause and cold my praise,
Though soul was glowing in each polished line;
Maternal Grief
© William Wordsworth
DEPARTED Child! I could forget thee once
Though at my bosom nursed; this woeful gain
Thy dissolution brings, that in my soul
Is present and perpetually abides
Lara. A Tale
© George Gordon Byron
Proud Otho on the instant, reddening, threw
His glove on earth, and forth his sabre flew.
"The last alternative befits me best,
And thus I answer for mine absent guest."
Tu mettrais l'univers entier dans ta ruelle (You Would Take The Whole World To Bed With You)
© Charles Baudelaire
Tu mettrais l'univers entier dans ta ruelle,
Femme impure! L'ennui rend ton âme cruelle.
Pour exercer tes dents à ce jeu singulier,
Il te faut chaque jour un coeur au râtelier.
Spring On Mattagmi
© Duncan Campbell Scott
Far in the east the rain-clouds sweep and harry,
Down the long haggard hills, formless and low,
The Mountain Of The Lovers
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
I.
LOVE scorns degrees! the low he lifteth high,
The high he draweth down to that fair plain
Whereon, in his divine equality,
Parting
© Boris Pasternak
A man is standing in the hall
His house not recognizing.
Her sudden leaving was a flight,
Herself, maybe, surprising.
A Night Attack
© Leon Gellert
Be still. The bleeding night is in suspense
Of watchful agony and coloured thought,
'The Aeneid of Virgil: Book 6
© Publius Vergilius Maro
HE said, and wept; then spread his sails before
The winds, and reachd at length the Cumæan shore:
Shaemus
© Conrad Aiken
We will go no more to Shaemus, at the Nip,
for sly innuendo and an Oporto Flip,
the rough but tender voice, the wide-mouthed grin,
the steady-unsteady hand that poured the gin:
To A Lady, Who Invited The Author Into The Country.
© Mary Barber
I grieve your Brother has the Gout;
Tho' he's so stoically stout,
I've heard him mourn his Loss of Pain,
And wish it in his Feet again.
What Woe poor Mortals must endure,
When Anguish is their only Cure!
To An Autograph-Hunter
© George MacDonald
Seek not my name-it doth no virtue bear;
Seek, seek thine own primeval name to find-
The name God called when thy ideal fair
Arose in deeps of the eternal mind.
The Common Grave
© Sydney Thompson Dobell
Last night beneath the foreign stars I stood
And saw the thoughts of those at home go by
The Triumph Of Fashion
© Henry James Pye
She spoke, and while her voice the war defy'd,
Assembling myriads croud on every side;
Undaunted to the field of death they go,
And frown amazement on the approaching foe:
With dreadful shock the encount'ring armies meet,
And the plain trembling, rocks beneath their feet.
On Time
© Jonathan Swift
Ever eating, never cloying,
All-devouring, all-destroying,
Never finding full repast,
Till I eat the world at last.
