Time poems
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Bryant On His Birthday
© John Greenleaf Whittier
We praise not now the poet's art,
The rounded beauty of his song;
Who weighs him from his life apart
Must do his nobler nature wrong.
At The Commencement Dinner
© James Russell Lowell
'Tis a dreadful oppression, this making men speak
What they're sure to be sorry for all the next week;
Some poor stick requesting, like Aaron's, to bud
Into eloquence, pathos, or wit in cold blood,
As if the dull brain that you vented your spite on
Could be got, like an ox, by mere poking, to Brighton.
The Defeat of Youth
© Aldous Huxley
I. UNDER THE TREES.
There had been phantoms, pale-remembered shapes
The Widow To Her Sons Betrothed
© Caroline Norton
I.
AH, cease to plead with that sweet cheerful voice,
Nor bid me struggle with a weight of woe,
Lest from the very tone that says "rejoice"
To Myrtilla Complaining
© Franklin Pierce Adams
Myrtie, you weep that the bard has neglected you,
Passed you, forgotten you, let you alone.
Bless you, Myrtilla, I never suspected you
Ever would speak to me, sweet, in that tone.
First Poem From The "Zdagger Upper Story"
© Daniil Ivanovich Kharms
Pyotr Pavlovich (entering the room):
Zdagger Upper Ooster Ooster
The Return Of Ulysses
© Richard Monckton Milnes
The Man of wisdom and endurance rare,
A sundry--coloured and strange--featured way,
Our hearts have followed; now the pleasant care
Is near its end,--the oars' sweet--echoed play,
Nacht am Strand (Night on the Shore)
© Heinrich Heine
Starless and cold is the night:
The sea is foaming,
The Avalanche
© Alaric Alexander Watts
'Tis Night; and Silence with unmoving wings
Broods o'er the sleeping waters;ânot a sound
The Battle Of Kings Mountain
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
OFTTIMES an old man's yesterdays o'er his frail vision pass,
Dim as the twilight tints that touch a dusk-enshrouded glass;
But, ah! youth's time and manhood's prime but grow more brave, more bright,
As still the lengthening shadows steal toward the rayless night.
That Wind I Used To Hear It Swelling
© Emily Jane Brontë
That wind I used to hear it swelling
With joy divinely deep
You might have seen my hot tears welling
But rapture made me weep
Summer
© Johannes Carl Andersen
And sleeps thy heart when flower and tree
Adorn the summer stillness?
THe River Saguenay
© Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
Few poets yet in praise of thee
Have tuned a passing lay,
Yet art thou rich in beauties stern,
Thou dark browed Saguenay!
Au Jardin
© Ezra Pound
O you away high there,
you that lean
From amber lattices upon the cobalt night,
I am below amid the pine trees,
Amid the little pine trees, hear me!
Elegy II. On Posthumous Reputation - To a Friend
© William Shenstone
O grief of griefs! that Envy's frantic ire
Should rob the living virtue of its praise;
O foolish Muses! that with zeal aspire
To deck the cold insensate shrine with bays.
A Ballade of Suicide
© Gilbert Keith Chesterton
Prince, I can hear the trumpet of Germinal,
The tumbrils toiling up the terrible way;
Even to-day your royal head may fall,
I think I will not hang myself to-day.
To My Old Schoolmaster
© John Greenleaf Whittier
AN EPISTLE NOT AFTER THE MANNER OF HORACE
Old friend, kind friend! lightly down
The Prophecy of Samuel Sewall
© John Greenleaf Whittier
Up and down the village streets
Strange are the forms my fancy meets,
He Loves And He Rides Away
© Sydney Thompson Dobell
'Twas in that island summer where
They spin the morning gossamer,
I Am The Only Being Whose Doom
© Emily Jane Brontë
I am the only being whose doom
No tongue would ask no eye would mourn
I never caused a thought of gloom
A smile of joy since I was born
