Time poems
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On the Death of Stephen Grey, F.R.S.
© Samuel Johnson
The Electrician
Long hast thou borne the burden of the day,
The Love Sonnets Of Proteus. Part IV: Vita Nova: CVII
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
THE SAME CONTINUED
Clutching the brink with hands and feet and knees,
With trembling heart, and eyes grown strangely dim,
A part thyself and parcel of the frieze
Adjustment
© John Greenleaf Whittier
The tree of Faith its bare, dry boughs must shed
That nearer heaven the living ones may climb;
Brahm
© Joseph Furphy
Our swarming brethren of the North
Whatever you may judge them worth
Sling Muck and Soogoo Ram,
Are fantoids like yourself and me,
Though differing somewhat in degree
Nothing exists but BRAHM.
Sonnet III
© Fernando António Nogueira Pessoa
When I do think my meanest line shall be
More in Time's use than my creating whole,
Shakespeares Grave
© Robinson Jeffers
Doggerel," he thought, "will do for church-wardens,
Poetry's precious enough not to be wasted,"
The Vengeance Of The Goddess Diana
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
The shore sloped upward into foliaged hills,
Cleft by the channels of rock-fretted rills,
That flashed their wavelets, touched by iris lights,
O'er many a tiny cataract down the heights.
To an Antiquated Coquette
© Charles Sackville
Phyllis, if you will not agree
To give me back my liberty,
Honours -- Part I
© Jean Ingelow
To strive-and fail. Yes, I did strive and fail;
I set mine eyes upon a certain night
To find a certain star-and could not hail
With them its deep-set light.
The Ladle. A Tale
© Matthew Prior
Our gods the outward gates unbarr'd;
Our farmer met 'em in the yard;
Thought they were folks that lost their way,
And ask'd them civilly to stay;
Told 'em for supper or for bed
They might go on and be worse sped. -
The Ballad Of The Little Black Hound
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
Who knocks at the Geraldine's door to-night
In the black storm and the rain?
The Vision Of Augustine And Monica
© Robert Laurence Binyon
Mother, because thine eyes are sealed in sleep,
And thy cheeks pale, and thy lips cold, and deep
In silence plunged, so fathomlessly still
Thou liest, and relaxest all thy will,
The Important Thing
© Edgar Albert Guest
He was playing in the garden when we called him in for tea,
But he didn't seem to hear us, so I went out there to see
What the little rogue was up to, and I stooped and asked him why,
When he heard his mother calling, he had made her no reply.
"I am playing war," he told me, "and I'm up against defeat,
And until I stop the Germans I can't take the time to eat."
Visit Of Hope To Sydney Cove, Near Botany Bay
© Erasmus Darwin
Where Sydney Cove her lucid bosom swells,
And with wide arms the indignant storm repels;
The Improvisatore, Or, 'John Anderson, My Jo, John'
© Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Eliza. Ask our friend, the Improvisatore ; here he comes. Kate has a favour
to ask of you, Sir ; it is that you will repeat the ballad [Believe me if
all those endearing young charms.-EHC's ? note] that Mr. ____ sang so
sweetly.
The Doe: A Fragment (From Wandering Willie)
© George Meredith
And-'Yonder look! yoho! yoho!
Nancy is off!' the farmer cried,
