Time poems
/ page 266 of 792 /"The Wishing Star."
© Isabella Valancy Crawford
Day floated down the sky; a perfect day,
Leaving a footprint of pale primrose gold
"This Enlightened Age"
© Ada Cambridge
I say it to myself-in meekest awe
Of Progress, electricity and steam,
Of this almighty age-this liberal age,
That has no time to breathe, or think, or dream,-
My Dependence
© Rabindranath Tagore
I like to be dependent, and so for ever
with warmth and care of my mother
my father , to love, kiss and embrace
wear life happily in all their grace.
April
© Charlotte Turner Smith
GREEN o'er the copses spring's soft hues are spreading,
High wave the reeds in the transparent floods,
The oak its sear and sallow foliage shedding,
From their moss'd cradles start its infant buds.
Conclusion
© John Frederick Nims
legato con amore in un volume
ciò che per luniverso si squaderna . . .
Phoebe
© James Russell Lowell
Ere pales in Heaven the morning star,
A bird, the loneliest of its kind,
Hears Dawn's faint footfall from afar
While all its mates are dumb and blind.
Watching Unto God In The Night Season (2)
© William Cowper
Season of my purest pleasure,
Sealer of observing eyes!
Henry Ford's Offhand Way
© Edgar Albert Guest
Speaking of Henry Ford's purchase of a million dollars' worth of city bonds, Controller Engel said; "He talked about buying those bonds exactly as I would talk about buying a sack of peanuts." News item.
Ode to Women
© John Logan
Ye virgins! fond to be admired,
With mighty rage of conquest fired,
And universal sway;
Who heave th' uncover'd bosom high,
And roll a fond, inviting eye,
On all the circle gay!
OBIIT MDCCCXXXIII (Entire)
© Alfred Tennyson
Thou wilt not leave us in the dust:
Thou madest man, he knows not why,
He thinks he was not made to die;
And thou hast made him: thou art just.
Spring In The Trenches
© Edgar Albert Guest
It's coming time for planting in that little patch of ground,
Where the lad and I made merry as he followed me around;
The sun is getting higher, and the skies above are blue,
And I'm hungry for the garden, and I wish the war were through.
Builders Of Ruins
© Alice Meynell
We build with strength and deep tower wall
That shall be shattered thus and thus.
And fair and great are court and hall,
But how fair-this is not for us,
Who know the lack that lurks in all.
To dietakes just a little while
© Emily Dickinson
To dietakes just a little while
They say it doesn't hurt
It's only fainterby degrees
And thenit's out of sight
'Ware Wire!
© Jessie Pope
WHEN the beagles are running like steam,
When the plough is as sticky as glue,
Corfu
© Richard Monckton Milnes
Thou pleasant Island, whose rich garden--shores
Have had a long--lived fame of loveliness,
Recorded in the historic song, that framed
The unknown Poet of an unknown time,
Little Nellie In The Prison
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
The chaplain, with a father's gentlest grace,
Kissed the small ruffled brow, the pleading face:
"Out of the mouths of babes and sucklings still,
Praise is perfected," thought he; thus, his will
Blended with hers, and through those gates of sin,
Black, even at noontide, sire and child passed in.
Ormuzd And Ahriman. The Overture.
© Christopher Pearse Cranch
Ah, what are all the discords of all time
But stumbling steps of one persistent life
That struggles up through mists to heights sublime
Forefelt through all creation's lingering strife:
The deathless motion of one undertone,
Whose deep vibrations thrill from God to God alone!
The Voice
© Sara Teasdale
ATOMS as old as stars,
Mutation on mutation,
Millions and millions of cells
Dividing yet still the same,