Time poems
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Death Of Gen. Jackson - An Eulogy
© George Moses Horton
Hark! from the mighty Hero's tomb,
I hear a voice proclaim!
A sound which fills the world with gloom,
But magnifies his name.
The Blessed Damozel
© Dante Gabriel Rossetti
The blessed damozel leaned out
From the gold bar of Heaven;
Our Dum'd Animals
© Franklin Pierce Adams
What time I seek my virtuous couch to steal
Some surcease from the labours of the day,
Ere silence like a poultice comes to heal--
In short, when I prepare to hit the hay;
Ere slumber's chains (I quote from Moore) have bound me,
I hear a lot of noises all around me.
Palmyra (2nd Edition)
© Thomas Love Peacock
--anankta ton pantôn huperbal-
lonta chronon makarôn.
Pindar. Hymn. frag. 33
I See Around Me Tombstones Grey
© Emily Jane Brontë
I see around me tombstones grey
Stretching their shadows far away.
Sonnet IV
© George Gascoigne
To prink me up, and make me higher placed,
All came too late that tarried any time;
The Botanic Garden (Part VIII)
© Erasmus Darwin
"Sweet ECHO! sleeps thy vocal shell,
"Where this high arch o'erhangs the dell;
"While Tweed with sun-reflecting streams
"Chequers thy rocks with dancing beams?-
Babyhood
© James Whitcomb Riley
Heigh-ho! Babyhood! Tell me where you linger:
Let's toddle home again, for we have gone astray;
Take this eager hand of mine and lead me by the finger
Back to the Lotus lands of the far-away.
I Love Sensual Women
© Daniil Ivanovich Kharms
I love sensual women and not passionate ones. A passionate woman closes her eyes, moans and shouts and the enjoyment of a passionate woman is blind.
A passionate woman writhes about, grabs you with her hands without looking where, clasps you, kisses you, even bites you and hurries to reach her climax as soon as she can. She has no time to display her sexual organs, no time to examine, touch with the hand and kiss your sexual organs, she is in such a hurry to slake her passion. Having slaked her passion, the passionate woman will fall asleep. The sexual organs of a passionate woman are dry. A passionate woman is always in some way or another mannish.
Don Juan: Canto The Fifth
© George Gordon Byron
When amatory poets sing their loves
In liquid lines mellifluously bland,
The Hunchback In The Park
© Dylan Thomas
The hunchback in the park
A solitary mister
Propped between trees and water
From the opening of the garden lock
That lets the trees and water enter
Until the Sunday sombre bell at dark
Saint Mar Magdelene; or, The Weeper
© Richard Crashaw
Hail, sister springs,
Parents of silver-footed rills!
Ever bubbling things,
Thawing crystal, snowy hills!
Still spending, never spent; I mean
Thy fair eyes, sweet Magdalene.
Natalias Resurrection: Sonnet VIII
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
And so it was that, sitting ever thus
Dumb to all speech of those that knew her woe
And bare with her sole sorrow in the house,
And ever watching with sad eyes below
The Ringlet
© Caroline Norton
Change!--thou wert all life's scenery:
To me, the billowy, bounding wave--
The wide green earth--the far blue sky,
Form but the landscape of thy grave!
Chorus from 'Atalanta'
© Algernon Charles Swinburne
WHEN the hounds of spring are on winter's traces,
The mother of months in meadow or plain
Lines On Captain Wogan. To An Oak Tree
© Sir Walter Scott
Emblem of England's ancient faith,
Full proudly may thy branches wave,
Where loyalty lies low in death,
And valour fills a timeless grave.
