Time poems
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Epilogue to Schiller's Song of the Bell
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Mingled the crowds from ev'ry region brought,
And on the stage, in festal pomp array'd
The HOMAGE OF THE ARTS we saw displayed.
Immortal Sails
© Alfred Noyes
Now, in a breath, we’ll burst those gates of gold,
And ransack heaven before our moment fails.
Now, in a breath, before we, too, grow old,
We’ll mount and sing and spread immortal sails.
A Child My Choice
© Robert Southwell
Let folly praise that fancy loves, I praise and love that Child
Whose heart no thought, whose tongue no word, whose hand no deed defiled.
Memorizing “The Sun Rising” by John Donne
© Billy Collins
Every reader loves the way he tells off
the sun, shouting busy old fool
into the English skies even though they
were likely cloudy on that seventeenth-century morning.
Rural Rambles - The Village
© Ebenezer Elliott
Sweet village! where my early days were pass'd,
Though parted long, we meet, we meet at last!
Paradise Lost: Book I (1674)
© Patrick Kavanagh
So spake th' Apostate Angel, though in pain,
Vaunting aloud, but rackt with deep despare:
And him thus answer'd soon his bold Compeer.
Under The Rose
© Christina Georgina Rossetti
Oh the rose of keenest thorn!
One hidden summer morn
Under the rose I was born.
Darest Thou Now O Soul
© Walt Whitman
Darest thou now O soul,
Walk out with me toward the unknown region,
Where neither ground is for the feet nor any path to follow?
The Pit
© John Fuller
From the beginning, the egg cradled in pebbles,
The drive thick with fledglings, to the known last
Riot of the senses, is only a short pass.
Earth to be forked over is more patient,
Bird hungers more, flower dies sooner.
The Hunting of the Snark
© Lewis Carroll
"Just the place for a Snark!" the Bellman cried,
As he landed his crew with care;
Supporting each man on the top of the tide
By a finger entwined in his hair.
Night Feeding
© Katha Pollitt
Deeper than sleep but not so deep as death
I lay there dreaming and my magic head
Cullen in the Afterlife
© P. K. Page
He must wake up. He must expose and strip
successive layers to ?nd his soul again.
Where had the rubble come from? He was like
a junkyard—cluttered, ?lled with scrap iron, tin.
As dead as any metal not in use.
August
© Hilaire Belloc
This is sheer manhood; this is Charlemagne,
When he with his wide host came conquering home
From vengeance under Roncesvalles ta'en.
Or when his bramble beard flaked red with foam
Of bivouac wine-cups on the Lombard plain,
What time he swept to grasp the world at Rome.
Amen
© Christina Georgina Rossetti
It is over. What is over?
Nay, now much is over truly!
Harvest days we toiled to sow for;
Now the sheaves are gathered newly,
Now the wheat is garnered duly.
The Cowboy
© James Tate
Someone had spread an elaborate rumor about me, that I was
in possession of an extraterrestrial being, and I thought I knew who
Driving through Minnesota During the Hanoi Bombings
© Robert Bly
We drive between lakes just turning green;
Late June. The white turkeys have been moved
Liberation
© Sri Aurobindo
I have thrown from me the whirling dance of mind
And stand now in the spirit's silence free,
Timeless and deathless beyond creature-kind,
The centre of my own eternity.
