Time poems
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The Song Of Hiawatha XX: The Famine
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Oh the long and dreary Winter!
Oh the cold and cruel Winter!
Georgie Sails To-Morrow!
© Henry Clay Work
For sixteen years, a merry, laughing maiden,
I have warbl'd only songs of joy;
And in this heart, so very lightly laden,
Happy thoughts have ever found employ.
But times will change! and now there comes a sorrow,
Which bids me ev'ry joy resign:
The Problem
© John Greenleaf Whittier
I.
NOT without envy Wealth at times must look
On their brown strength who wield the reaping-hook."
And scythe, or at the forge-fire shape the plough
Vain Hope
© Ernest Christopher Dowson
Sometimes, to solace my sad heart, I say,
Though late it be, though lily-time be past,
Song #6.
© Robert Crawford
We have this life, this love only
Kiss me on the mouth, my own!
Dust we'll soon be through the ages,
And who'll reck when we are gone?
The Guest - Sonnet
© Sri Aurobindo
I have discovered my deep deathless being:
Masked by my front of mind, immense, serene
It meets the world with an Immortal's seeing,
A god-spectator of the human scene.
Tales Of A Wayside Inn : Part 1. The Musician's Tale; The Saga of King Olaf IX. -- Thangbrand The Pr
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Short of stature, large of limb,
Burly face and russet beard,
Ambition
© Edward Thomas
Unless it was that day I never knew
Ambition. After a night of frost, before
A Parting Song
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
When will ye think of me, my friends?
When will ye think of me?
The Fairie's Fair
© Zora Bernice May Cross
Whos that dancing on the moonlight air,
Heel tapping, Toe-heel rapping?
Hymns to the Night : 4
© Novalis
Now I know when will come the last morning - when the Light no more scares away Night and Love - when sleep shall be without waking, and but one continuous dream. I feel in me a celestial exhaustion. Long and weariful was my pilgrimage to the holy grave, and crushing was the cross. The crystal wave, which, imperceptible to the ordinary sense, springs in the dark bosom of the mound against whose foot breaks the flood of the world, he who has tasted it, he who has stood on the mountain frontier of the world, and looked across into the new land, into the abode of the Night - truly he turns not again into the tumult of the world, into the land where dwells the Light in ceaseless unrest.
On those heights he builds for himself tabernacles - tabernacles of peace, there longs and loves and gazes across, until the welcomest of all hours draws him down into the waters of the spring - afloat above remains what is earthly, and is swept back in storms, but what became holy by the touch of love, runs free through hidden ways to the region beyond, where, like fragrances, it mingles with love asleep.
The Love Letter
© Nikolay Alekseyevich Nekrasov
Letter of love so strangely thrilling
With all your countless wonder yet,
The Future Of Australia
© Mary Hannay Foott
The fireside carols and battle rhymes,
And romaunt of the knightly ring;
And the chant with hint of cathedral chimes,
Of him made blind to sing.
Echo.
© Robert Crawford
Here, Echo, was thy reign of old,
Among these hills, a mystic crowd
Whose thunder rolled
When they speak loud
To------.
© Frances Anne Kemble
Have yet some pity, and forbear to strike
One without power to strive, or fly alike,
Nor trample on a heart, which now must be
Towards all defencelessmost of all towards thee.
Hon. James B. Clay
© Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
DIED JANUARY 26th, 1864, THE HON. JAMES B. CLAY, OF ASHLANDS, KENTUCKY, ELDEST SON OF THE ILLUSTRIOUS HENRY CLAY.
Another pang for Southern hearts,
"A Brave Refrain"
© James Whitcomb Riley
When the skillet seethes, and a blubbering hot
Tilts the lid of the coffee-pot,
And the scent of the buckwheat cake grows plain--
O then is the time for a brave refrain!
Life
© Madison Julius Cawein
There is never a thing we dream or do
But was dreamed and done in the ages gone;
Everything's old; there is nothing that's new,
And so it will be while the world goes on.
