Time poems
/ page 218 of 792 /
A Living Picture
© Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
No, I'll not say your name. I have said it now,
As you mine, first in childish treble, then
Up through a score and more familiar years
Till baby-voices mock us. Time may come
Sordello: Book the Sixth
© Robert Browning
The thought of Eglamor's least like a thought,
And yet a false one, was, "Man shrinks to nought
Voices Of The Night
© Charles Stuart Calverley
The dew is on the roses,
The owl hath spread her wing;
And vocal are the noses
Of peasant and of king:
"Nature" (in short) "reposes;"
But I do no such thing.
To My Country
© Katharine Lee Bates
O dear my Country, beautiful and dear,
Love cloth not darken sight.
The Battling Days
© Henry Lawson
But the wild oats wave on their stormy path, and they speak of the hearts of men
I would sow a crop if I had my time in those hard old days again.
We travel first, or we go saloonon the planned-out trips we go,
With those who are neither rich nor poor, and we find that the life is slow;
The Lone Red Rock
© Henry Herbert Knibbs
A song of the range, an old-time song,
To the patter of pony's feet,
Frank Gardiner
© Anonymous
Oh Frank Gardiner is caught at last and lies in Sydney jail,
For wounding Sergeant Middleton and robbing the Mudgee mail.
For plundering of the gold escort, the Carcoar mail also;
And it was for gold he made so bold, and not so long ago.
Athenasia
© Oscar Wilde
To that gaunt House of Art which lacks for naught
Of all the great things men have saved from Time,
The withered body of a girl was brought
Dead ere the world's glad youth had touched its prime,
And seen by lonely Arabs lying hid
In the dim wound of some black pyramid.
Bothwell Castle
© William Wordsworth
Immured in Bothwell's Towers, at times the Brave
(So beautiful is the Clyde) forgot to mourn
A Farm Walk
© Christina Georgina Rossetti
The year stood at its equinox
And bluff the North was blowing,
A bleat of lambs came from the flocks,
Green hardy things were growing;
I met a maid with shining locks
Where milky kine were lowing.
Lancan vei la folha
© Bernard de Ventadorn
Tuit cil que.m preyon qu'eu chan,
volgra saubesson lo ver,
Callaghan's Hotel
© Henry Lawson
There are memories of old days that were red instead of blue;
In the time of Dick the Devil and of other devils too;
But perhaps they went to Heaven and are angels, doing well
They were always open-hearted up at Callaghans Hotel.
Paean
© John Greenleaf Whittier
NOW, joy and thanks forevermore!
The dreary night has wellnigh passed,
The slumbers of the North are o'er,
The Giant stands erect at last!
An Essay on Man: Epistle 1
© Alexander Pope
To Henry St. John, Lord Bolingbroke
Awake, my St. John! leave all meaner things
March
© William Cullen Bryant
The stormy March is come at last,
With wind, and cloud, and changing skies,
I hear the rushing of the blast,
That through the snowy valley flies.
On The Busts Of Milton, In Youth And Age, At Stourhead
© William Lisle Bowles
IN YOUTH.
Milton, our noblest poet, in the grace
Lines On Hearing, Three Or Four Years Ago, That Constantinople Was Swallowed Up By An Earthquake;
© Amelia Opie
A Report, though false, at that time generally believed.
The Double Fortress
© Alfred Noyes
Time, wouldst thou hurt us? Never shall we grow old.
Break as thou wilt these bodies of blind clay,
Thou canst not touch us here, in our stronghold,
Where two, made one, laugh all thy powers away.
