Time poems
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A Man's A Man For A' That
© Charles Mackay
"A man's a man," says Robert Burns,
"For a' that and a' that";
Ode To Liberty
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
Yet, Freedom, yet, thy banner, torn but flying,
Streams like a thunder-storm against the wind.--BYRON.
I.
A glorious people vibrated again
A Lesson In Drawing
© Nizar Qabbani
My son lays down his pens, his crayon box in
front of me
and asks me to draw a homeland for him.
The brush trembles in my hands
and I sink, weeping.
Rose Mary
© Dante Gabriel Rossetti
Of her two fights with the Beryl-stone
Lost the first, but the second won.
The Death Of Adam
© Robert Laurence Binyon
Cedars, that high upon the untrodden slopes
Of Lebanon stretch out their stubborn arms,
Through all the tempests of seven hundred years
Fast in their ancient place, where they look down
Report To Crazy Horse
© William Stafford
Crazy Horse, tell me if I am right:
these are the things we thought we were
doing something about.
The Run of the Downs
© Rudyard Kipling
The Weald is good, the Downs are best--
I'll give you the run of 'em, East to West.
SweetYou forgotbut I remembered
© Emily Dickinson
SweetYou forgotbut I remembered
Every timefor Two
So that the Sum be never hindered
Through Decay of You
Hero And Leander. The Fourth Sestiad
© George Chapman
Now from Leander's place she rose, and found
Her hair and rent robe scatter'd on the ground;
Defiance
© Walter Savage Landor
Catch her and hold her if you can--
See, she defies you with her fan,
Shuts, opens, and then holds it spread
In threatening guise over your head.
On Some Rose Leaves Brought From The Vale Of Cashmere
© Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
Faded and pale their beauty, vanished their early bloom,
Their folded leaves emit alone a sweet though faint perfume,
But, oh! than brightest bud or flower to me are they more dear,
They come from that rose-haunted land, the bright Vale of Cashmere.
Ode To The Moon
© Thomas Hood
I
Mother of light! how fairly dost thou go
Over those hoary crests, divinely led!
Art thou that huntress of the silver bow,
Svanhvit's Colloquy
© Per Daniel Amadeus Atterbom
What countless paths wind down, from divers points,
To yonder city gates!--Oh, wilt not thou,
My star, appear to me on one of them?
Whate'er I said,--thou art my worshiped sun.
Then pardon me;--thou art not cold; oh, no!
Too warm, too glowing warm, art thou for me.
Laus Virginitatis
© Arthur Symons
The mirror of men's eyes delights me less,
mirror, than the friend I find in thee;
Thou loves!:, as I love, my loveliness,
Thou givest my beauty back to me.
The Golden Legend: III. A Street In Strasburg
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
_Crier of the dead (ringing a bell)._ Wake! wake!
All ye that sleep!
Pray for the Dead!
Pray for the Dead!
Untimely Love
© Mathilde Blind
Poor helpless blossom orphaned of the sun,
How could it thus brave winter's rude estate?
Oh love, more helpless, why bloom so late,
Now that the flower-time of the year is done?
Since thy dear course must end when scarce begun,
Nipped by the cold touch of relentless fate.
