Time poems
/ page 432 of 792 /On Seeing the Elgin Marbles
© John Keats
My spirit is too weak—mortality
Weighs heavily on me like unwilling sleep,
The Lovers' Walk
© Roderic Quinn
BY the slowly flowing river
Lies the old, shadowed walk,
Where the lovers, two and two,
Ere the falling of the dew,
Dedication
© Henry Kendall
To her who, cast with me in trying days,
Stood in the place of health and power and praise;
Climbing Milestone Mountain, August 22, 1937
© Kenneth Rexroth
For a month now, wandering over the Sierras,
A poem had been gathering in my mind,
Stars In The Sea
© Roderic Quinn
I took a boat on a starry night
and went for a row on the water,
and she danced like a child on a wake of light
and bowed where the ripples caught her.
The Poet And The Children
© John Greenleaf Whittier
WITH a glory of winter sunshine
Over his locks of gray,
In the old historic mansion
He sat on his last birthday;
"It Was a Lover and His Lass"
© William Shakespeare
It was a lover and his lass,
With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino,
That oer the green cornfield did pass,
In springtime, the only pretty ring time,
When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding;
Sweet lovers love the spring.
from Stanzas in Meditation: Stanza V
© Gertrude Stein
Why can pansies be their aid or paths.
He said paths she had said paths
Jerusalem Delivered - Book 06 - part 01
© Torquato Tasso
THE ARGUMENT.
Argantes calls the Christians out to just:
The Night
© Henry Vaughan
Through that pure virgin shrine,
That sacred veil drawn oer Thy glorious noon,
That men might look and live, as glowworms shine,
And face the moon,
Wise Nicodemus saw such light
As made him know his God by night.
Laus Veneris
© Algernon Charles Swinburne
Asleep or waking is it? for her neck,
Kissed over close, wears yet a purple speck
Wherein the pained blood falters and goes out;
Soft, and stung softly — fairer for a fleck.
Town Eclogues: Thursday; the Bassette-Table
© Lady Mary Wortley Montagu
CARDELIA. THE bassette-table spread, the tallier come,
Why stays SMILINDA in the dressing-room ?
Rise, pensive nymph ! the tallier stays for you.
Hymn to the Comb-Over by Wesley McNair: American Life in Poetry #122 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate
© Ted Kooser
The chances are very good that you are within a thousand yards of a man with a comb-over, and he may even be somewhere in your house. Here's Maine poet, Wesley McNair, with his commentary on these valorous attempts to disguise hair loss.
A Legend of Truth
© Rudyard Kipling
Then came a War when, bombed and gassed and mined,
Truth rose once more, perforce, to meet mankind,
And through the dust and glare and wreck of things,
Beheld a phantom on unbalanced wings,
Reeling and groping, dazed, dishevelled, dumb,
But semaphoring direr deeds to come.
To A Child
© Francis Thompson
Whenas my life shall time with funeral tread
The heavy death-drum of the beaten hours,