Time poems
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The Wound-Dresser
© Walt Whitman
But in silence, in dreams’ projections,
While the world of gain and appearance and mirth goes on,
So soon what is over forgotten, and waves wash the imprints off the sand,
With hinged knees returning I enter the doors, (while for you up there,
Whoever you are, follow without noise and be of strong heart.)
The Heart Courageous
© Virna Sheard
Who hath a heart courageous
Will fight with right good cheer;
For well may he his foes out-face
Who owns no foe called Fear!
Pastoral Sung To The King
© Robert Herrick
MON. Bad are the times. SIL. And worse than they are we.
MON. Troth, bad are both; worse fruit, and ill the tree:
Dean Stanley
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
DEAD! dead! in sooth his marbled brow is cold,
And prostrate lies that brave, majestic head;
True! his stilled features own death's arctic mould,
Yet, by Christ's blood, I know he is not dead!
The Pool
© Robert Creeley
My embarrassment at his nakedness,
at the pool’s edge,
and my wife, with his,
standing, watching—
Memorandum
© William Stanley Merwin
Save these words for a while because
of something they remind you of
although you cannot remember
what that is a sense that is part
dust and part the light of morning
Address to Venus
© Lucretius
Delight of Human kind, and Gods above;
Parent of Rome; Propitious Queen of Love;
Acon and Rhodope; or, Inconstancy
© Heather Fuller
First of those
Who visited upon this solemn day
The Hamadryad’s oak, were Rhodope
And Acon; of one age, one hope, one trust.
Graceful was she as was the nymph whose fate
She sorrowed for: he slender, pale, and first
My Life had stood—a Loaded Gun
© Emily Dickinson
My Life had stood-a Loaded Gun-
In Corners-till a Day
The Owner passed-identified-
And carried Me away-
A Broken Prayer
© George MacDonald
I am a denseness 'twixt me and the light;
1 cannot round myself; my purest thought,
Ere it is thought, hath caught the taint of earth,
And mocked me with hard thoughts beyond my will.
An Elegy upon the Death of the Dean of Paul's, Dr. John Donne
© Thomas Carew
Can we not force from widow'd poetry,
Now thou art dead (great Donne) one elegy
Chain of Women
© Annie Finch
These are the seasons Persephone promised
as she turned on her heel—
the ones that darken, till green no longer
bandages what I feel.
The Bursting of the Boom
© Henry Lawson
The captains easy-going when Fremantle comes in sight;
He cant say when youll get ashoreperhaps tomorrow night;
Your coins are few, the charges high; you must not linger here
Youll get your boxes from the hold when shes longside the pier.
The launch will foul the gangway, and the trembling bulwarks loom
Above a fleet of harbour craftat the Bursting of the Boom.
Yourself
© Jones Very
Tis to yourself I speak; you cannot know
Him whom I call in speaking such an one,
The Magic Shoes
© Charles Godfrey Leland
IT was stiller, dimmer twilight - amber toornin' into gold,
Like young maidens' hairs get yellow und more dark as dey crow old;
Und dere shtood a high ruine vhere de Donau rooshed along,
All lofely, yet neclected - like an oldt und silent song.
A Song Of Roses
© Virna Sheard
'Tis time to sing of roses: of roses all ablow,
To every vagrant passing breeze they dip a courtesy low,
'Tis time to sing of roses! for June is here, you know.
