Time poems
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The Hangman
© Anne Sexton
Reasonable, reasonable, reasonable…we walked through
ten different homes, they always call them homes,
Prologue To 'Zobeide'
© Oliver Goldsmith
IN these bold times, when Learning's sons explore
The distant climate and the savage shore;
Haidouks
© Hristo Botev
Father and Son
Come, Grandfather, blow on your pipe now,
And I will take up the tune
With songs of our heroes, of haidouks,
89. The Ordination
© Robert Burns
KILMARNOCK wabsters, fidge an claw,
An pour your creeshie nations;
An ye wha leather rax an draw,
Of a denominations;
Egotism
© Jane Taylor
But 'tis not only with the loud and rude
That self betrays its nature unsubdued ;
Polite attention and refined address
But ill conceal it, and can ne'er suppress :
One truth, despite of manner, stands confest--
They love themselves unspeakably the best.
Transcience
© Sarojini Naidu
Nay, do not grieve tho' life be full of sadness,
Dawn will not veil her spleandor for your grief,
Nor spring deny their bright, appointed beauty
To lotus blossom and ashoka leaf.
At A Funeral
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
I loved her too, this woman who is dead.
Look in my face. I have a right to go
And see the place where you have made her bed
Among the snow.
The Royal Tombs Of Golconda
© Sarojini Naidu
I MUSE among these silent fanes
Whose spacious darkness guards your dust;
Around me sleep the hoary plains
That hold your ancient wars in trust.
A New Year's Time At Willards's
© James Whitcomb Riley
There's old man Willards; an' his wife;
An' Marg'et-- S'repty's sister--; an'
There's me-- an' I'm the hired man;
An' Tomps McClure, you better yer life!
The Pardah Nashin
© Sarojini Naidu
HER life is a revolving dream
Of languid and sequestered ease;
Her girdles and her fillets gleam
Like changing fires on sunset seas;
Her raiment is like morning mist,
Shot opal, gold and amethyst.
The Holly-Tree
© Robert Southey
O reader! hast thou ever stood to see
The Holly-tree?
The eye that contemplates it well perceives
Its glossy leaves
Ordered by an Intelligence so wise
As might confound the Atheist's sophistries.
The Indian Gipsy
© Sarojini Naidu
IN tattered robes that hoard a glittering trace
Of bygone colours, broidered to the knee,
Behold her, daughter of a wandering race,
Tameless, with the bold falcon's agile grace,
And the lithe tiger's sinuous majesty.
To A Happy Warrior
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Glory to God who made a man like this!
To God be praise who in the empty heaven
Set Earth's gay globe
With its green vesture given
The Geraldines
© Thomas Osborne Davis
Ye Geraldines! Ye Geraldines! How royally ye reigned
O'er Desmond broad and rich Kildare, and English arts disdained;
Your sword made knights, your banner waved, free was your bugle call
By Glyn's green slopes, and Dingle's tide, from Barrow's banks to
Eochaill,
What gorgeous shrines, what Brehon lore, what minstrel feasts there were
Over The May Hill
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
All through the night time, and all through the day time,
Dreading the morning and dreading the night,
Meintjes Kopje
© Francis Ernley Walrond
Meintjes Kopje! Meintjes Kopje!
Do the purple daisies grow
On your rugged slopes in spring-time
As they did in years ago,
The Roll Of The Kettledrum; Or, The Lay Of The Last Charger
© Adam Lindsay Gordon
"You have the Pyrrhic dance as yet,
Where is the Pyrrhic phalanx gone?
Of two such lessons, why forget
The nobler and the manlier one?" - Byron.
