Time poems
/ page 337 of 792 /A Pauper
© Allen Tate
I see him old, trapped in a burly house
Cold in the angry spitting of a rain
Come down these sixty years.
The Brother Of Mercy
© John Greenleaf Whittier
Piero Luca, known of all the town
As the gray porter by the Pitti wall
Where the noon shadows of the gardens fall,
Sick and in dolor, waited to lay down
His last sad burden, and beside his mat
The barefoot monk of La Certosa sat.
The Golden Legend: V. A Covered Bridge At Lucerne
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
_Prince Henry_ The grim musician
Leads all men through the mazes of that dance,
To different sounds in different measures moving;
Sometimes he plays a lute, sometimes a drum,
To tempt or terrify.
Freedom
© Nikolay Alekseyevich Nekrasov
Oft through my native land I roved before,
But never such a cheerful spirit bore.
To Lady Eleanor Butler and the Honourable Miss Ponsonby,
© William Wordsworth
A stream to mingle with your favorite Dee
Along the Vale of Meditation flows;
So styled by those fierce Britons, pleased to see
In Nature's face the expression of repose,
John
© Edgar Bowers
Before he wrote a poem, he learned the measure
That living in the future gives a farm-
The Grand Question Debated: Whether Hamiltons Bawn Should Be Turned Into A Barrack Or Malt-House
© Jonathan Swift
Thus spoke to my lady the knight full of care,
"Let me have your advice in a weighty affair.
This Hamilton's bawn, while it sticks in my hand
I lose by the house what I get by the land;
July In Georgy
© James Weldon Johnson
I'm back down in ole Georgy w'ere de sun is shinin' hot,
W'ere de cawn it is a-tasslin', gittin' ready fu' de pot;
W'ere de cott'n is a-openin' an' a-w'itenin' in de sun,
An' de ripenin' o' de sugah-cane is mighty nigh begun.
De Profundis
© Peter McArthur
NOT yet are deeds fruition of my thought,
Nor is this body symbol of my soul,
A Hidden Life
© George MacDonald
Ah God! when Beauty passes by the door,
Although she ne'er came in, the house grows bare.
Shut, shut the door; there's nothing in the house.
Why seems it always that it should be ours?
A secret lies behind which Thou dost know,
And I can partly guess.
The New Recruit
© Katharine Tynan
The lads were once my comrades,
They stay at home content.
And now's the time of cricket,
They count the days well spent.
Quieta Ne Movete II
© Edith Nesbit
IF one should wake one's frozen faith
In sunlight of her radiant eyes,
A Farewell To Arms: To Queen Elizabeth
© George Peele
His golden locks Time hath to silver turnd;
O Time too swift, O swiftness never ceasing!
His youth gainst time and age hath ever spurnd,
But spurnd in vain; youth waneth by increasing:
Beauty, strength, youth, are flowers but fading seen;
Duty, faith, love, are roots, and ever green.
Spleen (II)
© Charles Baudelaire
Time has gone lame, and limps; and under a thick pall
Of snow the endless years efface and muffle all;
Till boredom, fruit of the mind's inert, incurious tree,
Assumes the shape and size of immortality.
The Beggars Castle
© Richard Monckton Milnes
Those ruins took my thoughts away
To a far eastern land;
Like camels, in a herd they lay
Upon the dull red sand;
I know not that I ever sate
Within a place so desolate.
The Rose Upon My Balcony
© William Makepeace Thackeray
The rose upon my balcony the morning air perfuming,
Was leafless all the winter time and pining for the spring;
You ask me why her breath is sweet, and why her cheek is blooming,
It is because the sun is out and birds begin to sing.
The Spagnoletto. Act V
© Emma Lazarus
DON TOMMASO.
If he still live, now shall we hear of him.
The news I learn will lure him from his covert,
Where'er it lie, to pardon or avenge.
Paradise Regain'd : Book I.
© John Milton
I, who erewhile the happy Garden sung
By one man's disobedience lost, now sing
Recovered Paradise to all mankind,