Time poems
/ page 184 of 792 /
By Momba Tracks
© Roderic Quinn
THE hearts of the everlasting-flowers
Shall steal the gold o' the sun
When the winter rains have done their work
And the winter days are done,
The Mendicants
© Bliss William Carman
We are as mendicants who wait
Along the roadside in the sun.
Tatters of yesterday and shreds
Of morrow clothe us every one.
My Dream
© John Greenleaf Whittier
In my dream, methought I trod,
Yesternight, a mountain road;
Narrow as Al Sirat's span,
High as eagle's flight, it ran.
The Society Upon The Stanislaus
© Francis Bret Harte
I reside at Table Mountain, and my name is Truthful James;
I am not up to small deceit or any sinful games;
And I'll tell in simple language what I know about the row
That broke up our Society upon the Stanislow.
Translations And Adaptations From Heine
© Ezra Pound
I
Is your hate, then, of such measure?
Do you, truly, so detest me?
Through all the world will I complain
Of how you have addressed me.
Our Oldest Friend
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
I GIVE you the health of the oldest friend
That, short of eternity, earth can lend,--
A friend so faithful and tried and true
That nothing can wean him from me and you.
The Swallow
© Charlotte Turner Smith
THE gorse is yellow on the heath,
The banks with speedwell flowers are gay,
Paradiso
© Kenneth Koch
There is no way not to be excited
When what you have been disillusioned by raises its head
Habakkuk
© Thomas Parnell
Here terrour leaves me with exalted head,
I breath fine air, and find the vision fled,
The Seer withdrawn, inspir'd, and urg'd to write,
By the warm influence of the sacred sight.
When Horace "Came Back"
© Franklin Pierce Adams
When I was your stiddy, my loveliest Lyddy,
And you my embraceable she,
In joys and diversions, the king of the Persians
Had nothing on me.
Spring Flowers From Ireland
© Denis Florence MacCarthy
On receiving an early crocus and some violets in a letter from Ireland.
Within the letter's rustling fold
Pharsalia - Book VII: The Battle
© Marcus Annaeus Lucanus
Then burned their souls
At these his words, indignant at the thought,
And Rome rose up within them, and to die
Was welcome.
Ballade Of Youth And Age
© William Ernest Henley
Struggle and turmoil, revel and brawl -
Youth is the sign of them, one and all.
A smouldering hearth and a silent stage -
These are a type of the world of Age.
Scholar And The Carpenter
© Jean Ingelow
While ripening corn grew thick and deep,
And here and there men stood to reap,
A Wish (III)
© Frances Anne Kemble
Oh that I were a fairy sprite, to wander
In forest paths, o'erarched with oak and beech;
The Dream Of Pio Nono
© John Greenleaf Whittier
IT chanced that while the pious troops of France
Fought in the crusade Pio Nono preached,
What time the holy Bourbons stayed his hands
(The Hur and Aaron meet for such a Moses),
Voice
© James Baker
Take my stand, don't let me preach.
You don't know my name, or my reason.
You just came along higher than might
And stole my voice and tried me for treason.
Written For My Son, In A Bible Which Was Presented To Him.
© Mary Barber
Welcome, thou sacred, solemn Guest,
Who com'st to guide me to the Blest.
O Fountain of eternal Truth,
Thou gracious Guardian of my Youth!
