Time poems
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Honour's Martyr
© Emily Jane Brontë
The moon is full this winter night;
The stars are clear, though few;
And every window glistens bright
With leaves of frozen dew.
1979
© Roddy Lumsden
They arrived at the desk of the Hotel Duncan
and Smithed in, twitchy as flea-drummed squirrels.
II. Elliott In Fort Sumter
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
AND high amongst these chiefs of iron grain,
Large-statured natures, souls of Spartan mien,
Superbly brave, inflexibly serene,
Man of the, stalwart hope, the sleepless brain,
Antrim
© Robinson Jeffers
No spot of earth where men have so fiercely for ages of time
Fought and survived and cancelled each other,
The Boston Evening Transcript
© Thomas Stearns Eliot
The readers of the Boston Evening Transcript
Sway in the wind like a field of ripe corn.
Farewell to Poetry
© Théophile Gautier
Come, fallen angel, and your pink wings close;
Doff your white robe, your rays that gild the skies;
In Memory of Bryan Lathrop
© Edgar Lee Masters
Who bequeathed to Chicago a School of Music.
So in Pieria, from the wedded bliss
Homo Will Not Inherit
© Mark Doty
Downtown anywhere and between the roil
of bathhouse steam—up there the linens of joy
and shame must be laundered again and again,
Astrophel And Stella-Eighth Song
© Sir Philip Sidney
In a grove most rich of shade,
Where birds wanton music made,
May, then young, his pied weeds showing,
New perfum'd with flowers growing,
My Country
© James Montgomery
Man, through all ages of revolving time,
Unchanging man, in every varying clime,
Deems his own land of every land the pride,
Beloved by Heaven o'er the world beside;
His home the spot of earth supremely blest,
A dearer, sweeter spot than all the rest.
Puppet-Maker
© Charles Simic
In his fear of solitude, he made us.
Fearing eternity, he gave us time.
I hear his white cane thumping
Up and down the hall.
The Whole Mess ... Almost
© Gregory Corso
I ran up six flights of stairs
to my small furnished room
opened the window
and began throwing out
those things most important in life
The Child Of The Islands - Summer
© Caroline Norton
I.
FOR Summer followeth with its store of joy;
That, too, can bring thee only new delight;
Its sultry hours can work thee no annoy,
The Sleigh-Bells
© Susanna Moodie
Tis merry to hear, at evening time,
By the blazing hearth the sleigh-bells chime;
The End
© Mark Strand
Not every man knows what he shall sing at the end,
Watching the pier as the ship sails away, or what it will seem like
When he’s held by the sea’s roar, motionless, there at the end,
Or what he shall hope for once it is clear that he’ll never go back.
The Crystal Lithium
© James Schuyler
The smell of snow, stinging in nostrils as the wind lifts it from a beach
Eve-shuttering, mixed with sand, or when snow lies under the street lamps and on all
When To The Attractions Of The Busy World
© William Wordsworth
WHEN, to the attractions of the busy world,
Preferring studious leisure, I had chosen
A habitation in this peaceful Vale,
Sharp season followed of continual storm
