Time poems
/ page 262 of 792 /Tale XI
© George Crabbe
creed;
And those of stronger minds should never speak
(In his opinion) what might hurt the weak:
A man may smile, but still he should attend
His hour at church, and be the Church's friend,
What there he thinks conceal, and what he hears
Ere Sleep Comes Down To Soothe The Weary Eyes
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
ERE sleep comes down to soothe the weary eyes,
Which all the day with ceaseless care have sought
At My Window After Sunset
© George MacDonald
Heaven and the sea attend the dying day,
And in their sadness overflow and blend-
Faint gold, and windy blue, and green and gray:
Far out amid them my pale soul I send.
The Talking Oak
© Alfred Tennyson
Once more the gate behind me falls;
Once more before my face
I see the moulder'd Abbey-walls,
That stand within the chace.
The Four Seasons : Winter
© James Thomson
See, Winter comes, to rule the varied year,
Sullen and sad, with all his rising train;
Vapours, and clouds, and storms. Be these my theme,
These! that exalt the soul to solemn thought,
Another Tattered Rhymster In The Ring
© Gilbert Keith Chesterton
Another tattered rhymster in the ring,
With but the old plea to the sneering schools,
That on him too, some secret night in spring
Came the old frenzy of a hundred fools
To a Lady of Quality, Fitting Up Her Library
© William Shenstone
Ah! what is science, what is art,
Or what the pleasure these impart?
Ye trophies, which the learn'd pursue
Through endless, fruitless toils, adieu!
The Toiler
© Edgar Albert Guest
He swore that he'd be true to her,
If she would only marry him;
That as his wife, throughout his life
She'd never know a moment grim.
Dora
© Charles Harpur
Im happy now in thinking how happy I was then,
When towards the glowing west my love went homeward down the glen;
Went homeward down the glen, while my comfort surer grew,
Till methought the old-faced hills at looked as they were happy too.
The House Of Dust: Part 03: 04:
© Conrad Aiken
She played this tune. And in the middle of it
Abruptly broke it off, letting her hands
Fall in her lap. She sat there so a moment,
With shoulders drooped, then lifted up a rose,
One great white rose, wide opened like a lotos,
And pressed it to her cheek, and closed her eyes.
The House Of Life
© Dante Gabriel Rossetti
A Sonnet is a moment's monument,
Memorial from the Soul's eternity
The sounds that slip
© Ava
A soft tress on the summit of a quill
The she the her
Troubled by the smirk of
A lipless apparatus
The Triumphs Of Philamore And Amoret. To The Noblest Of Our
© Richard Lovelace
Sir, your sad absence I complain, as earth
Her long-hid spring, that gave her verdures birth,
Who now her cheerful aromatick head
Shrinks in her cold and dismal widow'd bed;
Whilst the false sun her lover doth him move
Below, and to th' antipodes make love.
Song
© Thomas Lovell Beddoes
How many times do I love thee, dear?
Tell me how many thoughts there be
The Old Horse In The City
© Vachel Lindsay
The moons a peck of corn. It lies
Heaped up for me to eat.
I wish that I might climb the path
And taste that supper sweet.
Childhood Alone Is Glad
© Charles Heavysege
Childhood alone is glad. With it time flees
In constant mimes and bright festivities.
The Spirit Of The Forest Spring
© Madison Julius Cawein
Over the rocks she trails her locks,
Her mossy locks that drip, drip, drip: