Time poems
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The Supper
© Robert Laurence Binyon
Blind Roger
Set the glass in my hand. I'm blind and old,
But still I shun to be left in the cold.
These Old Songs
© Edwin Brock
grow in the mind,
their rhymes chiming endlessly
with the sound of feet walking
or rain falling or being taken up
by garden birds, one line at a time.
from The Bridge: Quaker Hill
© Hart Crane
Above them old Mizzentop, palatial white
Hostelry—floor by floor to cinquefoil dormer
Portholes the ceilings stack their stoic height.
Long tiers of windows staring out toward former
Faces—loose panes crown the hill and gleam
At sunset with a silent, cobwebbed patience . . .
Hartley Field
© Connie Wanek
And you, whom I have heard breathe all night,
sigh through the water of sleep
with vestigial gills . . .
The Old Man Drew the Line
© Carl Rakosi
Ah, companero,
you were born
on the wrong day
when God was paradoxical.
You’ll have to
find yourself an old dog.
A Man Who Would Woo a Fair Maid
© William Schwenck Gilbert
A man who would woo a fair maid,
Should 'prentice himself to the trade;
The Broken Crutch: A Tale
© Robert Bloomfield
A burst of laughter rang throughout the hall,
And Peggy's tongue, though overborne by all,
Pour'd its warm blessings, for, without control
The sweet unbridled transport of her soul
Was obviously seen, till Herbert's kiss
Stole, as it were, the eloquence of bliss.
The Captain and the Mermaids
© William Schwenck Gilbert
I SING a legend of the sea,
So hard-a-port upon your lee!
A ship on starboard tack!
She's bound upon a private cruise -
(This is the kind of spice I use
To give a salt-sea smack).
Cold Calls: War Music, Continued
© Christopher Logue
Take Quinamid
The son of a Dardanian astrologer
Who disregarded what his father said
And came to Troy in a taxi.
The Hill
© Nissim Ezekiel
Do not muse on it
from a distance:
it's not remote
for the view only,
it's for the sport
of climbing.
Mary's Tryst
© Isabella Valancy Crawford
Young Mary stole along the vale,
To keep her tryst with Ulnor's lord;
A warrior clad in coat of mail
Stood darkling by the brawling ford.
In Memoriam A. H. H. OBIIT MDCCCXXXIII: 72
© Alfred Tennyson
Risest thou thus, dim dawn, again,
And howlest, issuing out of night,
With blasts that blow the poplar white,
And lash with storm the streaming pane?
The Ambitious Fox And The Unapproachable Grapes
© Guy Wetmore Carryl
A farmer built around his crop
A wall, and crowned his labors
By placing glass upon the top
To lacerate his neighbors,
Provided they at any time
Should feel disposed the wall to climb.
On Parting
© Hristo Botev
1868
Don't cry, mother, don't grieve
that I grew up as an outlaw,
an outlaw, mother, a rebel,
The Sea of Death
© Thomas Hood
So lay they garmented in torpid light,
Under the pall of a transparent night,
Like solemn apparitions lulld sublime
To everlasting rest,and with them Time
Slept, as he sleeps upon the silent face
Of a dark dial in a sunless place.
A Small Moment
© Cornelius Eady
I walk into the bakery next door
To my apartment. They are about
To pull some sort of toast with cheese
From the oven. When I ask:
What’s that smell? I am being
A poet, I am asking
Never to Dream of Spiders
© Elizabeth Daryush
Once the renegade flesh was gone
fall air lay against my face
sharp and blue as a needle
but the rain fell through October
and death lay a condemnation
within my blood.
