Time poems
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The Witch of Hebron
© Charles Harpur
Of golden lamps, showed many a treasure rare
Of Indian and Armenian workmanship
Which might have seemed a wonder of the world:
And trains of servitors of every clime,
Greeks, Persians, Indians, Ethiopians,
In richest raiment thronged the spacious halls.
Feud
© Madison Julius Cawein
A mile of lane,--hedged high with iron-weeds
And dying daisies,--white with sun, that leads
Downward into a wood; through which a stream
Steals like a shadow; over which is laid
A bridge of logs, worn deep by many a team,
Sunk in the tangled shade.
The Spirit Of The Age
© Christopher Pearse Cranch
A wondrous light is filling the air,
And rimming the clouds of the old despair;
Chloe
© Edith Nesbit
NIGHT wind sighing through the poplar leaves,
Trembling of the aspen, shivering of the willow,
Every leafy voice of all the night-time grieves,
Mourning, weeping over Chloe's pillow.
"A Noted Traveler"
© James Whitcomb Riley
Even in such a scene of senseless play
The children were surprised one summer-day
Things Do Come Round
© William Barnes
Above the leafless hazzle-wride
The wind-drove raïn did quickly vall,
Of The Nature Of Things: Book I - Part 04 - Nothing Exists Per Se Except Atoms And The Void
© Lucretius
But, now again to weave the tale begun,
All nature, then, as self-sustained, consists
The Ring And The Book - Chapter V - Count Guido Franceschini
© Robert Browning
That is a way, thou whisperest in my ear!
I doubt, I will decide, then act, said I
Then beckoned my companions: Time is come!
Growing Down
© Edgar Albert Guest
Time was I thought of growing up,
But that was ere the babies came;
Tales Of A Wayside Inn : Part 1. The Student's Tale; The Falcon of Ser Federigo
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
"Who is thy mother, my fair boy?" he said,
His hand laid softly on that shining head.
"Monna Giovanna. Will you let me stay
A little while, and with your falcon play?
We live there, just beyond your garden wall,
In the great house behind the poplars tall."
After Bank Holiday
© Elizabeth Daryush
Now deserted are the roads
Where awhile the lovers went;
Vacant are the field-abodes
Where a vivid hour they spent:
Solemn dark
Broods again in lane and park.
To The Summer Night
© Robert Laurence Binyon
A sultry perfume of voluptuous June
Enchants the air still breathing of warm day;
But now the impassioned Night draws over, soon
To fold me, in this high hollow, quite away
The Prairie School
© Isabel Ecclestone Mackay
THE sweet west wind, the prairie school a break in the yellow wheat,
The prairie trail that wanders by to the place where the four winds meet--
A trail with never an end at all to the children's eager feet.
The Cow-Puncher's Elegy
© Arthur Chapman
I've ridden nigh a thousand leagues upon two bands of steel,
And it takes a grizzled Westerner to know just how I feel;
A Prayer Of Time
© Robert Laurence Binyon
Move onward, Time, and bring us sooner free
From this self--clouding turmoil where we ply
On others' errands driven continually:
O lead us to our own souls, ere we die!
Coming Home
© Augusta Davies Webster
Anyhow
I've poetry and music too to-day
in the very clatter: it goes "Home, home, home."
Matter For Gratitude
© Ambrose Bierce
O God, forgive them all, from Stoneman down,
Thy smile who construe and expound Thy frown,
And fall with saintly grace upon their knees
To render thanks when Thou dost only sneeze.
The Prologue
© Anne Bradstreet
To sing of wars, of captains, and of kings,
Of cities founded, commonwealths begun,
For my mean pen are too superior things:
Or how they all, or each, their dates have run;
Let poets and historians set these forth,
My obscure lines shall not so dim their work.
When my time is come
© John Le Gay Brereton
When my time is come to die,
I would shun the decent gloom,
Whispered word and weeping eye,
Fitful hum of knowing fly
Questing through the darkened room.
