Time poems
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The Unthinkable
© Simon Armitage
A huge purple door washed up in the bay overnight,
its paintwork blistered and peeled from weeks at sea.
L'Adieu
© Guillaume Apollinaire
J'ai cueilli ce brin de bruyère
L'automne est morte souviens-t'en
Nous ne nous verrons plus sur terre
Odeur du temps Brin de bruyère
Et souviens-toi que je t'attends
The Ballad of Reading Gaol
© Oscar Wilde
He walked amongst the Trial Men
In a suit of shabby gray;
A cricket cap was on his head,
And his step seemed light and gay;
But I never saw a man who looked
So wistfully at the day.
A Nocturnal upon St. Lucy's Day
© John Donne
'Tis the year's midnight, and it is the day's,
Lucy's, who scarce seven hours herself unmasks;
The Reef
© Aldous Huxley
My green aquarium of phantom fish,
Goggling in on me through the misty panes;
My rotting leaves and fields spongy with rains;
My few clear quiet autumn days--I wish
The Song of Right and Wrong
© Gilbert Keith Chesterton
Feast on wine or fast on water
And your honour shall stand sure,
Dear Doctor, I have Read your Play
© Lord Byron
Dear Doctor, I have read your play,
Which is a good one in its way,
Lines Addressed To A.C.,
© Helen Maria Williams
Nor past, nor future cloud thy brow,
Thy range of thought confin'd to now;
Calm on a mother's breast you lie,
And heed not if, with tearful eye,
For thee her wishes fondly stray
O'er many a New-Year's Day.
With Antecedents
© Walt Whitman
I respect Assyria, China, Teutonia, and the Hebrews;
I adopt each theory, myth, god, and demi-god;
I see that the old accounts, bibles, genealogies, are true, without
exception;
Fatigue
© Hilaire Belloc
I'm tired of Love: I'm still more tired of Rhyme.
But Money gives me pleasure all the time.
The Candidate
© Charles Churchill
This poem was written in , on occasion of the contest between the
Earls of Hardwicke and Sandwich for the High-stewardship of the
To the Memory of My Beloved the Author, Mr. William Shakespeare
© Benjamin Jonson
To draw no envy, Shakespeare, on thy name,
Am I thus ample to thy book and fame;
First turn to me. . . .
© Bernadette Mayer
First turn to me after a shower,
you come inside me sideways as always
The Annihilation of Nothing
© Thom Gunn
Nothing remained: Nothing, the wanton name
That nightly I rehearsed till led away
To a dark sleep, or sleep that held one dream.
Moon From the Porch
© Annie Finch
Moon has dusks for walls,
October’s days for a floor,
crickets for rooms, windy halls.
Only one night is her door.
Above The Gaspereau
© Bliss William Carman
How still through the sweet summer sun, through the soft summer rain,
They have stood there awaiting the summons should bid them attain
The freedom of knowledge, the last touch of truth to explain
The great golden gist of their brooding, the marvellous train
Of thought they have followed so far, been so strong to sustain,
The white gospel of sun and the long revelations of rain!
