Time poems
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Elizabeth Speaks
© Duncan Campbell Scott
O! there is something I forgot!
Sometimes one little spark burns on
Long after the rest have gone.
Sonnets xvii
© William Shakespeare
O NEVER say that I was false of heart,
Though absence seem'd my flame to qualify!
As easy might I from myself depart,
As from my soul, which in thy breast doth lie:
To John Keats, Poet, At Spring Time
© Countee Cullen
I cannot hold my peace, John Keats;
There never was a spring like this;
It is an echo, that repeats
My last year's song and next year's bliss.
Sonnets xvi
© William Shakespeare
WHEN in the chronicle of wasted time
I see descriptions of the fairest wights,
And beauty making beautiful old rime
In praise of Ladies dead and lovely Knights;
Sonnets xii
© William Shakespeare
HOW like a Winter hath my absence been
From thee, the pleasure of the fleeting year!
What freezings have I felt, what dark days seen,
What old December's bareness everywhere!
On The University Carrier
© John Milton
Here lies old Hobson, Death hath broke his girt,
And here alas, hath laid him in the dirt,
Or els the ways being foul, twenty to one,
He's here stuck in a slough, and overthrown.
Sonnets viii
© William Shakespeare
THAT time of year thou may'st in me behold
When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang
Upon those boughs which shake against the cold--
Bare ruin'd choirs where late the sweet birds sang,
Sonnets vii
© William Shakespeare
BEING your slave, what should I do but tend
Upon the hours and times of your desire?
I have no precious time at all to spend,
Nor services to do, till you require.
Jerusalem Delivered - Book 05 - part 05
© Torquato Tasso
LXV
But yet all ways the wily witch could find
Sonnets iii
© William Shakespeare
WHEN to the Sessions of sweet silent thought
I summon up remembrance of things past,
I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought,
And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste:
Sonnets i
© William Shakespeare
SHALL I compare thee to a Summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And Summer's lease hath all too short a date:
Hermann And Dorothea - III. Thalia
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
THE BURGHERS.
THUS did the prudent son escape from the hot conversation,
Sonnet XXXVIII: How Can My Muse Want Subject to Invent
© William Shakespeare
How can my muse want subject to invent,
While thou dost breathe, that pour'st into my verse
Thine own sweet argument, too excellent
For every vulgar paper to rehearse?
Sonnet XXXVIII
© William Shakespeare
How can my Muse want subject to invent,
While thou dost breathe, that pour'st into my verse
Thine own sweet argument, too excellent
For every vulgar paper to rehearse?
Sonnet XXXVII
© William Shakespeare
As a decrepit father takes delight
To see his active child do deeds of youth,
So I, made lame by fortune's dearest spite,
Take all my comfort of thy worth and truth.
Sonnet XXXIX
© William Shakespeare
O, how thy worth with manners may I sing,
When thou art all the better part of me?
What can mine own praise to mine own self bring?
And what is 't but mine own when I praise thee?
Sonnet XXXII
© William Shakespeare
If thou survive my well-contented day,
When that churl Death my bones with dust shall cover,
And shalt by fortune once more re-survey
These poor rude lines of thy deceased lover,
Sonnet XXX
© William Shakespeare
When to the sessions of sweet silent thought
I summon up remembrance of things past,
I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought,
And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste:
A Song Of "Twenty-Nine"
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
THE summer dawn is breaking
On Auburn's tangled bowers,
