Time poems
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Ishmonie
© Edward Booth Loughran
The traveller tells how, in that ancient clime
Whose mystic monuments and ruins hoar
Matilda Who told Lies, and was Burned to Death
© Hilaire Belloc
Matilda told such Dreadful Lies,
It made one Gasp and Stretch one's Eyes;
Better Not Ask Me
© Sheldon Allan Silverstein
(Hey the truth might hurt so I'm tellin' you now that you better not ask me)
Hey you better not ask me where I been all night
Why my eyes are shinin' and my spirit is flyin'
You better not ask if I been doin' right or I just might tell you
In War-Time A Psalm Of The Heart
© Sydney Thompson Dobell
Scourge us as Thou wilt, oh Lord God of Hosts;
Deal with us, Lord, according to our transgressions;
But give us Victory!
Victory, victory! oh, Lord, victory!
Oh, Lord, victory! Lord, Lord, victory!
The Proclamation
© John Greenleaf Whittier
SAINT PATRICK, slave to Milcho of the herds
Of Ballymena, wakened with these words:
The Unchanging
© Sara Teasdale
SUN-SWEPT beaches with a light wind blowing
From the immense blue circle of the sea,
And the soft thunder where long waves whiten
These were the same for Sappho as for me.
Bakhichisarai At Night
© Adam Mickiewicz
The faithful villagers have scattered from the Mosque;
The echo of a muezzin's voice melts in the calm of dusk;
And the horizon blushes deep, tinged with rubies.
The king of silver, crescent of the night,
The Fairy Queen Sleeping. By Stothard
© Letitia Elizabeth Landon
She lay upon a bank, the favourite haunt
Of the spring wind in its first sunshine hour,
Weather Of The Soul
© Bliss William Carman
THERE is a world of being
We range from pole to pole,
Through seasons of the spirit
And weather of the soul.
Lines Written In A Lady's Album
© Joseph Rodman Drake
GRANT me, I cried, some spell of art,
To turn with all a lover's care,
That spotless page, my Eva's heart,
And write my burning wishes there.
Sonnet To Harriet St. Leger
© Frances Anne Kemble
Whene'er I recollect the happy time
When you and I held converse dear together,
Eclogue the Second Hassan
© William Taylor Collins
SCENE, the Desert TIME, Mid-day
10 In silent horror o'er the desert-waste
Hope
© William Cowper
Ask what is human life -- the sage replies,
With disappointment lowering in his eyes,
Driving to Camp Lend-A-Hand by Berwyn Moore: American Life in Poetry #175 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laur
© Ted Kooser
A part of being a parent, it seems, is spending too much time fearing the worst. Here Berwyn Moore, a Pennsylvania poet, expresses that fearâirrational, but exquisitely painful all the same.
Driving to Camp Lend-A-Hand
To Mr. Tilman After He Had Taken Orders
© John Donne
THOU, whose diviner soul hath caused thee now
To put thy hand unto the holy plough,
