Time poems

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Homer's Hymn To Minerva

© Percy Bysshe Shelley

I sing the glorious Power with azure eyes,
Athenian Pallas! tameless, chaste, and wise,
Tritogenia, town-preserving Maid,
Revered and mighty; from his awful head

Cervantes on his galley sets the sword back in the sheath
(Don John of Austria rides homeward with a wreath.)
And he sees across a weary land a straggling road in Spain,
Up which a lean and foolish knight forever rides in vain,
And he smiles, but not as Sultans smile, and settles back the blade. . .

Alaric In Italy

© Felicia Dorothea Hemans

Heard ye the Gothic trumpet's blast?

The march of hosts as Alaric passed?

A Pastoral Entertainment

© James Thomson

While in heroic numbers some relate
The amazing turns of wise eternal fate;
Exploits of heroes in the dusty field,
That to their name immortal honour yield;

He found my Beingset it up

© Emily Dickinson

He found my Beingset it up
Adjusted it to place
Then carved his nameupon it
And bade it to the East

Jersey

© Victor Marie Hugo

Dear Jersey! jewel jubilant and green,
'Midst surge that splits steel ships, but sings to thee!
Thou fav'rest Frenchmen, though from England seen,
Oft tearful to that mistress "North Countree";
Returned the third time safely here to be,
I bless my bold Gibraltar of the Free.

Widows

© Wilcox Ella Wheeler

The world was widowed by the death of Christ:
Vainly its suffering soul for peace has sought
And found it not.
For nothing, nothing, nothing has sufficed
To bring back comfort to the stricken house
From whence has gone the Master and the Spouse.

You Rise the Water Unfolds

© Paul Eluard

You are water ploughed from its depths
You are earth that takes root
And in which all is grounded

Lay Your Ears Back and Fight

© Henry Lawson

WHEN you drink of what the poets rave about as sorrers cup,
And yer mouth, in spite of laughin, gits a curve the wrong way up,
Do not whine for help or pity; never cringe at fortunes frown
Lay yer listners back and fight until you fight yer sorrers down!

John-a-dreams --

© Adelaide Crapsey

A laggard in the rear of time's swift feet,

And one who loiters on an aimless way

Propertius's Bid For Immortality

© Franklin Pierce Adams

Let us return, then, for a time,
To our accustomed round of rhyme;
And let my songs' familiar art
Not fail to move my lady's heart.

Little Elfie

© George MacDonald

I have a puppet-jointed child,
She's but three half-years old;
Through lawless hair her eyes gleam wild
With looks both shy and bold.

When I was Young and Ignorant

© Patrick Barrington

When I was young and ignorant I loved a Miss McDougall,

Our days were spent in happiness, although our means were frugal;

Jerusalem Delivered - Book 04 - part 04

© Torquato Tasso

XLIX

"Three times the shape of my dear mother came,

Marriage

The Many try, but oh! how few are they
To whom that finest of the arts is given
Which shall teach Love, the rosy runaway,
To bide from bridal Morn to brooding Even.
Yet this--this only--is the narrow way
By which, while yet on earth, we enter heaven.

Alfs Fifth Bit

© Ezra Pound

The pomps of butchery, financial power,
Told 'em to die in war, and then to save,
Then cut their saving to the half or lower;
When will this system lie down in its grave?

Seed-Time And Harvest

© Edith Nesbit

MY hollyhocks are all awake,

And not a single rose is lost;

The Rosciad

Unknowing and unknown, the hardy Muse
Boldly defies all mean and partial views;
With honest freedom plays the critic's part,
And praises, as she censures, from the heart.

The Touch of Time

Yet what if all your fairness were defaced,
Wilted by passionate whirlwinds, battle-scarred,
Your skin of delicate satin hard and dry?
Still you would be the laughing girl who graced
A gloomy manhood, by forebodings marred,
In the deep wood where still we love to lie.