Time poems
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A Paraphrase Of Heine
© Eugene Field
There fell a star from realms above--
A glittering, glorious star to see!
Methought it was the star of love,
So sweetly it illumined me.
To A Jilted Lover
© Sylvia Plath
Cold on my narrow cot I lie
and in sorrow look
through my window-square of black:
Only a Matter of Time
© Christopher Morley
It cannot be. The runnel slips away:
The clear smooth downward sluice begins again,
More brightly slanting for that trembling pause,
Leaving the sense its conscious vague unease
As when a sonnet flashes on the mind,
Trembles and burns an instant, and is gone.
One Whisper of the Beloved
© Mewlana Jalaluddin Rumi
Lovers share a sacred decree
to seek the Beloved.
They roll head over heels,
rushing toward the Beautiful One
like a torrent of water.
To her most Honoured Father Thomas Dudley Esq; these humbly presented.
© Anne Bradstreet
Dear Sir of late delighted with the sight
Of your four Sisters cloth'd in black and white,
Two Epochs
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
LOVERS by a dim sea strand
Looking wave-ward, hand in hand;
Silent, trembling with the bliss
Of their first betrothal kiss:
The Wind of Death
© Ethelwyn Wetherald
The wind of death, that softly blows
The last warm petal from the rose,
The Broken Circle
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
I STOOD On Sarum's treeless plain,
The waste that careless Nature owns;
Lone tenants of her bleak domain,
Loomed huge and gray the Druid stones.
At Long Last
© Ada Cambridge
Late, late, the prize is drawn, the goal attained,
The Heart's Desire fulfilled, Love's guerdon gained.
Wealth's use is past, Fame's crown of laurel mocks
The downward-drooping head and grizzled locks.
The end is reached-the end of toil and strife-
The end of life.
I'm My Own Grandpa
© Sheldon Allan Silverstein
It was many many years ago when I was twenty-three,
I was married to a widow, she's as pretty as can be.
This widow had a grown-up daughter who had hair of red,
my father fell in lover with her, and soon these two were wed.
Correspondances (Correspondences)
© Charles Baudelaire
La Nature est un temple où de vivants piliers
Laissent parfois sortir de confuses paroles;
L'homme y passe à travers des forêts de symboles
Qui l'observent avec des regards familiers.
Friend In The Desolate Time
© Erik Johan Stagnelius
Friend, in the desolate time, when your soul is enshrouded in darkness
When, in a deep abyss, memory and feeling die out,
Phantom Or Fact? A Dialogue In Verse
© Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Friend.
This riddling Tale, to what does it belong?
Is't History? Vision? or an idle Song?
Or rather say at once, within what space
Of Time this wild disastrous change took place?
Fontana Di Trevi
© Alfred Austin
Why do I sit within the spell
Of eyes like thine, who oft have known
What 'tis in Beauty's gaze to dwell,
And then-to feel alone:
Back be remitted to my cell,
Too lately near a throne?
Retrospection
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
WHEN you and I were young, the days
Were filled with scent of pink and rose,
Instinct
© Cesare Pavese
From the door of his house in the gentle sunshine
the old man, disillusioned with everything,
watches the dog and the bitch as they follow instinct.
The Slave Dealer
© Thomas Pringle
From ocean's wave a Wanderer came,
With visage tanned and dun:
His Mother, when he told his name,
Scarce knew her long-lost son;
So altered was his face and frame
By the ill course he had run.
Dressing The Doll
© William Brighty Rands
THIS is the way we dress the Doll:
You may make her a shepherdess, the Doll,
If you give her a crook with a pastoral hook,
But this is the way we dress the Doll.
Chorus
