Time poems
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Frankie and Johnnie
© Anonymous
Frankie and Johnnie were lovers,O, my Gawd, how they could love,They swore to be true to each other,As true as the stars above; He was her man, but he done her wrong.
For Christmas Day: Hark! the Herald Angels Sing
© Whitefield George
Hark! the herald Angels sing,Glory to the new-born King,Peace on earth and mercy mild,God and sinner reconcil'd. Hark! the herald Angels sing, Glory to the new-born King.
For Christmas Day in the Morning
© Anonymous
The first Nowell the Angel did sayWas to three poor Shepherds in the fields as they lay;In fields where they lay keeping their sheepIn a cold winter's night that was so deep
Eternal Time, that Wastest Without Waste
© Anonymous
Eternal Time, that wastest without waste, That art and art not, diest, and livest still;Most slow of all, and yet of greatest haste; Both ill and good, and neither good nor ill: How can I justly praise thee, or dispraise? Dark are thy nights, but bright and clear thy days
Edom o' Gordon
© Anonymous
It fell about the Martinmas, When the wind blew shrill and cauld,Said Edom o' Gordon to his men, 'We maun draw to a hauld.
Barbara Allan
© Anonymous
It was in and about the Martinmas time, When the green leaves were a falling,That Sir John Græme, in the West Country, Fell in love with Barbara Allan.
Ay Me, Ay Me, I Sigh the Scythe A-field
© Anonymous
Ay me, ay me, I sigh to see the scythe a-field; Down goeth the grass, soon wrought to wither'd hay:Ay me, alas! ay me, alas, that beauty needs must yield, And princes pass, as grass doth fade away.
Adam Lay Ibounden
© Anonymous
Adam lay ibounden,Bounden in a bond.Four thousand winterThoght he not too long.
White Sand
© Anderson Robert Thompson
Blue waves lap on the long low shore, And the dark clouds cast their quivering shade;The dancing launch leaps lightly before The heaving swell that the wind hath made;And over the rushes bending green, Reaching outward across the strandWe look to the beach so white and clean
The Old Timer
© Anderson Robert Thompson
Far, far across the rolling swale, I've watched the bison pass;I've seen the lonely prairie trail Wind thro' the rustling grass;I've felt the cool winds sweep the plain Where Nature's hand is free;But now they break o'er leagues of grain, Like ripples o'er the sea
Ode to the Country Gentlemen of England
© Mark Akenside
Thou, heedless Albion, what, alas, the while Dost thou presume? O inexpert in arms, Yet vain of freedom, how dost thou beguile, With dreams of hope, these near and loud alarms? Thy splendid home, thy plan of laws renown'd, The praise and envy of the nations round, What care hast thou to guard from fortune's sway? Amid the storms of war, how soon may all The lofty pile from its foundations fall,Of ages the proud toil, the ruin of a day!
No: thou art rich, thy streams and fertile vales Add industry's wise gifts to nature's store: And every port is crowded with thy sails, And every wave throws treasure on thy shore
The Campaign
© Joseph Addison
While crowds of princes your deserts proclaim,Proud in their number to enroll your name;While emperors to you commit their cause,And Anna's praises crown the vast applause,Accept, great leader, what the muse indites,That in ambitious verse records your fights,Fir'd and transported with a theme so new:Ten thousand wonders op'ning to my viewShine forth at once, sieges and storms appear,And wars and conquests fill th' important year,Rivers of blood I see, and hills of slain;An Iliad rising out of one campaign
An Account of the Greatest English Poets (complete)
© Joseph Addison
Since, dearest Harry, you will needs requestA short account of all the muse possess'd;That, down from Chaucer's days to Dryden's times,Have spent their noble rage in British rhymes;Without more preface, wrote in formal length,To speak the undertaker's want of strength,I'll try to make their sev'ral beauties known,And show their verses' worth, though not my own
The Wants of Man
© Adams John Quincy
Man wants but little here below,Nor wants that little long. -- Goldsmith's Hermit
To the Sun-Dial
© Adams John Quincy
Under the Window of the Hall of the House ofRepresentatives of the United StatesThou silent herald of Time's silent flight! Say, could'st thou speak, what warning voice were thine? Shade, who canst only show how others shine!Dark, sullen witness of resplendent lightIn day's broad glare, and when the moontide bright Of laughing fortune sheds the ray divine, Thy ready favors cheer us--but declineThe clouds of morning and the gloom of night
