Time poems

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A Discourse

© Gotlieb Phyllis

the skeleton's the most articu-late thing there is exceptabout Who made him

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Aquarius

© Gotlieb Phyllis

The slow clock whorls of snailsmark time here; such calendarspatterned earlier dark oozeinto reluctant longitudes.

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The Deserted Village, A Poem

© Oliver Goldsmith

Sweet Auburn! loveliest village of the plain,Where health and plenty cheer'd the labouring swain,Where smiling spring its earliest visit paid,And parting summer's lingering blooms delay'd:Dear lovely bowers of innocence and ease,Seats of my youth, when every sport could please,How often have I loiter'd o'er thy green,Where humble happiness endear'd each scene!How often have I paus'd on every charm,The shelter'd cot, the cultivated farm,The never-failing brook, the busy mill,The decent church that topt the neighbouring hill,The hawthorn bush, with seats beneath the shade,For talking age and whisp'ring lovers made!How often have I blest the coming day,When toil remitting lent its turn to play,And all the village train, from labour free,Led up their sports beneath the spreading tree;While many a pastime circled in the shade,The young contending as the old survey'd;And many a gambol frolick'd o'er the ground,And sleights of art and feats of strength went round;And still, as each repeated pleasure tir'd,Succeeding sports the mirthful band inspir'd;The dancing pair that simply sought renownBy holding out to tire each other down:The swain mistrustless of his smutted face,While secret laughter titter'd round the place;The bashful virgin's sidelong looks of love,The matron's glance that would those looks reprove:These were thy charms, sweet village! sports like theseWith sweet succession, taught e'en toil to please:These round thy bowers their cheerful influence shed,These were thy charms--but all these charms are fled

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The Rising Village

© Oliver Goldsmith

Thou dear companion of my early years,Partner of all my boyish hopes and fears,To whom I oft addressed the youthful strain,And sought no other praise than thine to gain;Who oft hast bid me emulate his fameWhose genius formed the glory of our name;Say, when thou canst, in manhood's ripened age,With judgment scan the more aspiring page,Wilt thou accept this tribute of my lay,By far too small thy fondness to repay?Say, dearest Brother, wilt thou now excuseThis bolder flight of my adventurous muse? If, then, adown your cheek a tear should flowFor Auburn's Village, and its speechless woe;If, while you weep, you think the

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Similar Cases

© Gilman Charlotte Anna Perkins

There was once a little animal, No bigger than a fox,And on five toes he scampered Over Tertiary rocks

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For Soldiers

© Gifford Humphrey

Ye buds of Brutus land, courageous youths, now play your parts!Unto your tackle stand, abide the brunt with valiant hearts!For news is carried too and fro that we must forth to warfare go

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Homeward Bound

© Gibbon Perceval

It's goodbye now to Africa, but kiss your hand againTo the upland trek and the old trade road and kop and kloof and plain; There's another trek instead for us, And a long strange road ahead for us,But never the old home outspan, however the team may strain

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Resurge

© William Gay

Come forth, O Man, from darkness into light,Renounce the dust, break through thy sordid bars,For ever leave the crawling shapes of Night,And move erect among thy native stars:No longer grovel in a foetid cellWhen all the spaces of the sky are thine,With Sloth and Want no more a beggar dwellWhen thou canst claim a heritage divine;Awake and live! nor dream the dreams of deathThat brood, fantastic, fearful, o'er thy grave,Thou art not of the stuff that perisheth,Nor unto Fate and Time art thou a slave;Thy power extends beyond the starry Pole,And worlds and suns revolve within thy soul

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The Crazy World

© William Gay

The World did say to me, "My bread thou shalt not eat,I have no place for thee In house nor field nor street.

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Gascoigne's Lullaby

© George Gascoigne

Sing lullaby, as women do,Wherewith they bring their babes to rest;And lullaby can I sing to,As womanly as can the best

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Our Crocodile

© Garnett Richard

Our crocodile, (Psammarathis,A priest at Ombi, told me this,)Our crocodile is good and dear,And eats a damsel once a year

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Abdul Abulbul Ameer

© William Percy French

The sons of the Prophet are brave men and boldAnd quite unaccustomed to fearBut the bravest by far in the ranks of the ShahWas Abdul Abulbul Ameer

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XI Mon. January [1733] hath xxxi days.

© Benjamin Franklin

XI Mon. January [1733] hath xxxi days.

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The Jewish Conscript

© Frank Florence Kiper

There are nearly a quarter of a million Jews in the Czar's army alone. (Newspaper clipping)

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Little Bundles of Joy

© Foreman Gabe

Mark lobbed a pitchfork across the pooltoward a cat he thought was Kate'safter Kate drove over Mark's family dogtotally on purpose.

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Christ's Triumph after Death

© Giles Fletcher The Younger

IBegan to glister in her beams, and nowThe roses of the day began to flow'rIn th' eastern garden; for Heav'ns smiling browHalf insolent for joy begun to show: The early Sun came lively dancing out, And the brag lambs ran wantoning about,That heav'n, and earth might seem in triumph both to shout

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Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám

© Edward Fitzgerald

IHas flung the Stone that puts the Stars to Flight: And Lo! the Hunter of the East has caughtThe Sultan's Turret in a Noose of Light.

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The Tree

© Anne Finch - Countess of Winchilsea

Fair tree! for thy delightful shade'Tis just that some return be made;Sure some return is due from meTo thy cool shadows, and to thee