Time poems
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The Sower
© Victor Marie Hugo
Sitting in a porchway cool,
Fades the ruddy sunlight fast,
Twilight hastens on to rule--
Working hours are wellnigh past
The Careless Good Fellow
© John Oldham
A pox of this fooling, and plotting of late,
What a pother, and stir has it kept in the state?
Bishops Caundle
© William Barnes
At peace day, who but we should goo
To Caundle vor an' hour or two:
The Babylonian Captivity
© Charles Harpur
By far Euphrates stream we state,
A weary band of herded slaves,
And over Judahs fallen estate
We wept into the passing waves.
The Bard Of Breffney
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
Withered with years and broken by Time's play
I still do live, who only seek to lay
Idyll XXV. Heracles the Lion Slayer
© Theocritus
To whom thus spake the herdsman of the herd,
Pausing a moment from his handiwork:
"Friend, I will solve thy questions, for I fear
The angry looks of Hermes of the roads.
No dweller in the skies is wroth as he,
With him who saith the asking traveller nay.
A Good Father
© William Barnes
No; mind thy father. When his tongue
Is keen, he's still thy friend, John,
Looking Forward
© Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
How busily those little fingers soft
That within mine own are clasped so oft
Benedicite
© John Greenleaf Whittier
God's love and peace be with thee, where
Soe'er this soft autumnal air
Lifts the dark tresses of thy hair.
Psalm CIV. Paraphrased
© James Thomson
To praise thy Author, Soul, do not forget;
Canst thou, in gratitude, deny the debt?
Lord, thou art great, how great we cannot know;
Honour and majesty do round thee flow.
The Heroic Enthusiasts - Part The Second =First Dialogue.=
© Giordano Bruno
MAR. We know that you are not a theologian but a philosopher, and that
you treat of philosophy and not of theology.
The Child Of The Islands - Spring
© Caroline Norton
I.
WHAT shalt THOU know of Spring? A verdant crown
Of young boughs waving o'er thy blooming head:
White tufted Guelder-roses, showering down
By an Evolutionist
© Alfred Tennyson
The Lord let the house of a brute to the soul of a man,
And the man said, Am I your debtor?
And the LordNot yet; but make it as clean as you can,
And then I will let you a better.
A Death in the Bush
© Henry Kendall
For, ere the early settlers came and stocked
These wilds with sheep and kine, the grasses grew
So that they took the passing pilgrim in
And whelmed him, like a running sea, from sight.
The Return Of Peace
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
They could not quell the grieved and shuddering air,
That breathed about me its forlorn despair:
It almost seemed as if stern Triumph sped
To one whose hopes were dead,
And flaunting there his fortune's ruddier grace,
Smote--with a taunt--wan Misery in the face!
Illicit
© Conrad Aiken
Of what she said to me that nightno matter.
The strange thing came next day.
The Beginnings
© Rudyard Kipling
It was not part of their blood,
It came to them very late
With long arrears to make good,
When the English began to hate.
Life's Slacker
© Edgar Albert Guest
The saddest sort of death to die
Would be to quit the game called life
Gracia
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
Nay, nay, Antonio! nay, thou shalt not blame her,
My Gracia, who hath so deserted me.
Thou art my friend, but if thou dost defame her
I shall not hesitate to challenge thee.
