Time poems

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The Love Sonnets Of Proteus. Part II: To Juliet: XXXI

© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt

TO ONE WHO LOVED HIM
I cannot love you, love, as you love me,
In singleness of soul, and faith untried:
I have no faith in any destiny,

Alone

© Yvor Winters

I, one who never speaks,
Listened days in summer trees,
Each day a rustling leaf.

On The Death Of Damon. (Translated From Milton)

© William Cowper

Ye Nymphs of Himera (for ye have shed

Erewhile for Daphnis and for Hylas dead,

Jack Cornstalk in his Teens

© Henry Lawson

If not in the Garden, he had in the ark,
To neither the beasts nor the passengers joy.
Full many a boyish and monkeyish lark,
The sandy-complexioned, the freckle-faced boy.

To M.

© William Gay

IF in the summer of thy bright regard

For one brief season these poor Rhymes shall live

"I hate work so"

© Lesbia Harford

I hate work so
That I have found a way
Of making one small task outlast the day.
I will not leave

So it was "Rounds! What Rounds?" at two of a frosty night,
'E's 'oldin' on by the sergeant's sash, but, sentry, shut your eye.
An' it was "Pass! All's well!" Oh, ain't 'e drippin' tight!
'E'll need an affidavit pretty badly by-an'-by.

Whittier

© Margaret Elizabeth Sangster

HIS fourscore years and five
Are gone, like a tale that is told.
The quick tears start, there s an ache at the heart,
For we never thought him old.

The King Of Brentford

© William Makepeace Thackeray

There was a king in Brentford,of whom no legends tell,
But who, without his glory,could eat and sleep right well.
His Polly's cotton nightcap,it was his crown of state,
He slept of evenings early,and rose of mornings late.

Shes My Ever Lovin Machine

© Sheldon Allan Silverstein

Hey boys you know once I was took in by a girl with a twinkly eye
And the first time that I wasn't lookin' she run off with a handsomer guy oh my
But I'm an ingenious feller yeah as soon as my brain got uncurled
I tiptoed right down to my cellar and I built a mechanical girl
Oh her arms are iron her legs are steel her hips are on wires attached to a wheel
And her spine is a coil that I now and then oil she's my ever-lovin' machine

Azrael's Count

© Rudyard Kipling

Men I dismiss to the Mercy greet me not willingly;
Crying, "When seekest Thou me first? Are not my kin unslain?
Shrinking aside from the Sword-edge, blinking the glare of it,
Sinking the chin in the neck-bone. How shall that profit them?
Yet, among men a ten thousand, few meet me otherwise.

Rubaiyat 20

This tired life is the flood of age,
With a full cup began this outrage.
Wake up, and see the carrier of time
Slowly carries you along lifes passage.

Answering Him

"When shall I be a man?" he said,

As I was putting him to bed.

To Mr. Henry Lawes, Who Had Then Newly Set a Song of Mine

You, by the help of tune and time,
Can make that song which was but rhyme.
Noy pleading, no man doubts the cause;
Or questions verses set by Lawes.

The Door Of Humility

ENGLAND
We lead the blind by voice and hand,
And not by light they cannot see;
We are not framed to understand
The How and Why of such as He;

Dargo the mighty came on, like a
cloud of thunder. His brows were contracted
and dark. His eyes like two
caves in a rock. Bright rose their
swords on each side; dire was the clang
of their steel.