Time poems
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The Choice Of Sweet Shy Clare
© Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
Fair as a wreath of fresh spring flowers, a band of maidens lay
On the velvet swardenjoying the golden summer day;
And many a ringing silvry laugh on the calm air clearly fell,
With fancies sweet, which their rosy lips, half unwilling, seemed to tell.
Waldeinsamkeit
© Ralph Waldo Emerson
I do not count the hours I spend
In wandering by the sea;
The forest is my loyal friend,
Like God it useth me.
The Rape Of Lucrece
© William Shakespeare
TO THE
RIGHT HONORABLE HENRY WRIOTHESLY,
Earl of Southampton, and Baron of Tichfield.
A Counting-Out Song
© Rudyard Kipling
What is the song the children sing,
When doorway lilacs bloom in Spring,
Italy : 22. Ginevra
© Samuel Rogers
If thou shouldst ever come by choice or chance
To Modena, where still religiously
Among her ancient trophies is preserved
Bologna's bucket (in its chain it hangs
Italy : 34. The Roman Pontiffs
© Samuel Rogers
Those ancient men, what were they, who achieved
A sway beyond the greatest conquerors;
Setting their feet upon the necks of kings,
And, through the world, subduing, chaining down
Christmas In The Heart
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
The snow lies deep upon the ground,
And winter's brightness all around
Of The Nature Of Things: Book III - Part 01 - Proem
© Lucretius
O thou who first uplifted in such dark
So clear a torch aloft, who first shed light
Sunrise
© Sidney Lanier
I have waked, I have come, my beloved! I might not abide:
I have come ere the dawn, O beloved, my live-oaks, to hide
In your gospelling glooms, -- to be
As a lover in heaven, the marsh my marsh and the sea my sea.
A Ballade of Waiting
© Archibald Lampman
So time shall be swift till thou mate with me,
For love is mightiest next to fate,
And none shall be happier, Love, than we,
In the year yet, Lady, to dream and wait.
Psyche
© Jones Very
I SAW a worm, with many a fold;
It spun itself a silken tomb;
And there in winter time enrolled,
It heeded not the cold or gloom.
Tallulah Falls
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
ALONE with nature, where her passionate mood
Deepens and deepens, till from shadowy wood,
And sombre shore the blended voices sound
Of five infuriate torrents, wanly crowned
With such pale-misted foam as that which starts
To whitening lips from frenzied human hearts!
The Other Fathers by Lyn Lifshin : American Life in Poetry #251 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate 2004-
© Ted Kooser
The poet Lyn Lifshin, who divides her time between New York and Virginia, is one of the most prolific poets among my contemporaries, and has thousands of poems in print, by my loose reckoning. I have been reading her work in literary magazines for at least thirty years. Here’s a good example of this poet at her best.
But Here's An Object More Of Dread
© Abraham Lincoln
But here's an object more of dread
Than aught the grave contains--
A human form with reason fled,
While wretched life remains.
The Progress of Error
© William Cowper
Sing, muse (if such a theme, so dark, so long
May find a muse to grace it with a song),
Ave Caesar! Morituri Te Salutant
© Mary Hannay Foott
And they who raise it enter too,
With spectral looks and noiseless tread,
Unbidden, hold their dread review,
Beside the Emperors very bed.
Hermann And Dorothea - I. Kalliope
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
But the worthy landlord only smiled, and then answer'd
I shall dreadfully miss that ancient calico garment,
Genuine Indian stuff! They're not to be had any longer.
Well! I shall wear it no more. And your poor husband henceforward
Always must wear a surtout, I suppose, or commonplace jacket,
Always must put on his boots; good bye to cap and to slippers!"
Italy : 38. Foreign Travel
© Samuel Rogers
It was in a splenetic humour that I sat me down to my
scanty fare at Terracina ; and how long I should have
contemplated the lean thrushes in array before me, I
cannot say, if a cloud of smoke, that drew the tears
Blurry Mirror
© James Baker
A timeless photo,
The one in which you've kept grasped,
Locked up in your hand
Without a vision or a reason to pass.
