Time poems
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On the Morning of Christ's Nativity
© John Milton
This is the month, and this the happy morn, Wherein the Son of Heav'n's eternal King,Of wedded Maid, and Virgin Mother born, Our great redemption from above did bring; For so the holy sages once did sing, That he our deadly forfeit should release, And with his Father work us a perpetual peace
I Feel I'm Growing Old
© Mills David
I feel I'm growing old, Mary, My heart is full of care,Time makes his furrow on my brow, His snows are on my hair;The brook still murmurs in the glen, That drives the creaking mill,And though I take the upward way, I'm going down the hill
To Teach thy Base Thoughts Manners
© Middleton Thomas
To teach thy base thoughts manners: th'art one of thoseThat thinks each woman thy fond flexible whoreIf she but cast a liberal eye upon thee;Turn back her head, she's thine; or amongst company,By chance drink first to thee, then she's quite gone,There's no means to help her; nay, for a need,Wilt swear unto thy credulous fellow lechersThat th'art more in favour with a lady at first sightThan her monkey all her life time
Jesous Ahatonhia
© Middleton Jesse Edgar
'Twas in the moon of the winter time when all the birds had fledThat Mighty Gitshi Manitou sent angel-choirs instead
There's Nae Luck about the House
© William Mickle
And are ye sure the news is true? And are ye sure he's weel?Is this a time to think o' wark? Mak haste, lay by your wheel;Is this the time to spin a thread When Colin's at the door?Reach me my cloak, I'll to the quay And see him come ashore
Ontario
© McLachlan Alexander
O far away from my forest home,In the land of the stranger I must roam;And sigh amid flowers and trailing vines,For mine own rude land of lakes and pines
The Death of the Ox
© McLachlan Alexander
And thou art gone, my poor dumb friend! thy troubles all are past;A faithful friend thou wert indeed, e'en to the very last!And thou wert the prop of my house, my children's pride and pet,--Who now will help to free me from this weary load of debt?
Here, single-handed, in the bush I battled on for years,My heart sometimes buoyed up with hope, sometimes bowed down with fears
Reunion
© McGimpsey David
What is my news? Well, since graduating,I've raked it in and I've tossed it off,I've plucked the green peach and sodded the pitch
Lines written under the conviction that it is not wise to read Mathematics in November after one’s fire is out
© James Clerk Maxwell
In the sad November time,When the leaf has left the lime,And the Cam, with sludge and slime, Plasters his ugly channel,While, with sober step and slow,Round about the marshes low,Stiffening students stumping go Shivering through their flannel
