Time poems
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The God Called Poetry
© Robert Graves
Now I begin to know at last,
These nights when I sit down to rhyme,
A Summer Wish
© Christina Georgina Rossetti
Live all thy sweet life through,
Sweet Rose, dew-sprent,
Replica
© Marvin Bell
The fake Parthenon in Nashville, Stonehenge reduced by a quarter
near Maryhill on the Columbia, the little Statue of Liberty
Right's Security
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
WHAT if the wind do howl without,
And turn the creaking weather-vane;
Inside My Head
© Robert Creeley
Inside my head a common room,
a common place, a common tune,
a common wealth, a common doom
The Garden
© Mark Strand
for Robert Penn Warren
It shines in the garden,
in the white foliage of the chestnut tree,
in the brim of my father’s hat
as he walks on the gravel.
March: An Ode
© Algernon Charles Swinburne
I
Ere frost-flower and snow-blossom faded and fell, and the splendour of winter had passed out of sight,
A Basket of Summer Fruit
© Charles Harpur
First see those ample melons-brindled o'er
With mingled green and brown is all the rind;
For they are ripe, and mealy at the core,
And saturate with the nectar of their kind.
Midsummer
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
After the May time and after the June time
Rare with blossoms and perfume sweet,
Cometh the round world's royal noon time,
The red midsummer of blazing heat,
Fast Break
© Edward Hirsch
In Memory of Dennis Turner, 1946-1984
A hook shot kisses the rim and
hangs there, helplessly, but doesn’t drop,
Drought And Doctrine.
© James Brunton Stephens
COME, take the tenner, doctor . . . yes, I know the bill says "five,"
But it ain't as if you'd merely kep' our little 'un alive;
Sonnet L: Beauty, Sweet Love
© Samuel Daniel
Beauty, sweet love, is like the morning dew
Whose short refresh upon the tender green
Count Gismond—Aix in Provence
© Robert Browning
Christ God who savest man, save most
Of men Count Gismond who saved me!
Count Gauthier, when he chose his post,
Chose time and place and company
To suit it; when he struck at length
My honour, 't was with all his strength.
Tales Of A Wayside Inn : Part 2. The Musician's Tale; The Ballad of Carmilhan - III.
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The cabin windows have grown blank
As eyeballs of the dead;
No more the glancing sunbeams burn
On the gilt letters of the stern,
But on the figure-head;
New Stanzas for Amazing Grace
© Allen Ginsberg
I dreamed I dwelled in a homeless place
Where I was lost alone
Folk looked right through me into space
And passed with eyes of stone
