Time poems
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The Lotos-eaters
© Alfred Tennyson
"Courage!" he said, and pointed toward the land,
"This mounting wave will roll us shoreward soon."
Epistles to Several Persons: Epistle IV
© Alexander Pope
Still follow sense, of ev'ry art the soul,
Parts answ'ring parts shall slide into a whole,
Spontaneous beauties all around advance,
Start ev'n from difficulty, strike from chance;
Nature shall join you; time shall make it grow
A work to wonder at—perhaps a Stowe.
I Travelled among Unknown Men
© André Breton
I travelled among unknown men,
In lands beyond the sea;
Nor, England! did I know till then
What love I bore to thee.
A Happy Childhood
© William Matthews
No one keeps a secret so well as a child
Victor Hugo
My mother stands at the screen door, laughing.
“Out out damn Spot,” she commands our silly dog.
I wonder what this means. I rise into adult air
Reflections - I.
© Samuel Rogers
Man to the last is but a froward child;
So eager for the future, come what may,
And to the present so insensible!
Oh, if he could in all things as he would,
Misgivings
© Arvind Krishna Mehrotra
When ocean-clouds over inland hills
Sweep storming in late autumn brown,
Pharaoh and the Sergeant
© Rudyard Kipling
Said England unto Pharaoh, "I must make a man of you,
That will stand upon his feet and play the game;
A Letter in October
© Ted Kooser
Dawn comes later and later now,
and I, who only a month ago
could sit with coffee every morning
watching the light walk down the hill
to the edge of the pond and place
a doe there, shyly drinking,
Ich Weiss Nicht, Was Soll Es Bedeuten
© Heinrich Heine
I dont know what it could mean,
Or why Im so sad: I find,
At Tynemouth Priory
© William Lisle Bowles
AFTER A TEMPESTUOUS VOYAGE.
As slow I climb the cliff's ascending side,
Aeneid, II, 692 - end
© Virgil
As he spoke we could hear, ever more loudly, the noise
Of the burning fires; the flood of flames was coming
Sonnet XVIII: Genius in Beauty
© Dante Gabriel Rossetti
Beauty like hers is genius. Not the call
Of Homer's or of Dante's heart sublime,
Selective Service
© Carolyn Forche
We rise from the snow where we’ve
lain on our backs and flown like children,
Those Various Scalpels
© Marianne Clarke Moore
sown by tearing winds on the cordage of disabled ships: your
raised hand
an ambiguous signature: your cheeks, those rosettes
of blood on the stone floors of French châteaux,
with regard to which the guides are so affirmative—
your other hand
Ode, Inscribed to William H. Channing
© Ralph Waldo Emerson
Though loath to grieve
The evil time's sole patriot,
I cannot leave
My honied thought
For the priest's cant,
Or statesman's rant.
Now He Knows All There Is To Know. Now He Is Acquainted With The Day And Night
© Delmore Schwartz
Whose wood this is I think I know:
He made it sacred long ago:
He will expect me, far or near
To watch that wood immense with snow.
The Recollect Church
© Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
Quickly are crumbling the old gray walls,
Soon the last stone will be gone,
Arrows
© Tony Hoagland
When a beautiful woman wakes up,
she checks to see if her beauty is still there.
When a sick person wakes up,
he checks to see if he continues to be sick.
