Time poems
/ page 434 of 792 /
from The Congo: Section 1
© Roald Dahl
I. THEIR BASIC SAVAGERY
Fat black bucks in a wine-barrel room,
Three Women
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
My love is young, so young;
Young is her cheek, and her throat,
And life is a song to be sung
With love the word for each note.
Sonnet CXXIII: No, Time, thou shalt not boast that I do change
© William Shakespeare
No, Time, thou shalt not boast that I do change:
Thy pyramids built up with newer might
Elspeth's Ballad
© Sir Walter Scott
The herring loves the merry moon-light,
The mackerel loves the wind,
But the oyster loves the dredging sang,
For they come of a gentle kind.
The Author
© Charles Churchill
Accursed the man, whom Fate ordains, in spite,
And cruel parents teach, to read and write!
Tell thee truth, sweet; no
© Augusta Davies Webster
TELL thee truth, sweet; no.
Truth is cross and sad and cold:
Lies are pitiful and kind,
Honey-soft as Love's own tongue:
Caelica 22: [I, with whose colours Myra dress’d her head]
© Fulke Greville
I, with whose colours Myra dress’d her head,
I, that ware posies of her own hand-making,
I, that mine own name in the chimneys read
By Myra finely wrought ere I was waking:
Must I look on, in hope time coming may
With change bring back my turn again to play?
Of The Nature Of Things: Book V - Part 04 - Formation Of The World
© Lucretius
But in what modes that conflux of first-stuff
Did found the multitudinous universe
Last Post
© William Ernest Henley
THE day's high work is over and done,
And these no more will need the sun:
To a Wren on Calvary
© Larry Levis
And all later luxuries—the half-dressed neighbor couple
Shouting insults at each other just beyond
Her bra on a cluttered windowsill, then ceasing it when
A door was slammed to emphasize, like trouble,
Sonnet XII: "When I do count the clock that tells the time"
© William Shakespeare
When I do count the clock that tells the time,
And see the brave day sunk in hideous night;
A Poet To His Baby Son
© James Weldon Johnson
Tiny bit of humanity,
Blessed with your mothers face,
And cursed with your fathers mind.
Electrocuting an Elephant
© Sonia Sanchez
Her handlers, dressed in vests and flannel pants,
Step forward in the weak winter light
On Reading Crowds and Power
© Geoffrey Hill
1
Cloven, we are incorporate, our wounds
simple but mysterious. We have
some wherewithal to bide our time on earth.
Forever is composed of Nows (690)
© Emily Dickinson
Forever is composed of Nows
Tis not a different time
Except for Infiniteness
And Latitude of Home
The Salutation
© Thomas Traherne
These little limbs,
These eyes and hands which here I find,
These rosy cheeks wherewith my life begins,
Where have ye been? behind
What curtain were ye from me hid so long?
Where was, in what abyss, my speaking tongue?
December
© Hilaire Belloc
For now December, full of agéd care,
Comes in upon the year and weakly grieves;
Mumbling his lost desires and his despair; .
And with mad trembling hand still interweaves,
The dank sear flower-stalks tangled in his hair,
While round about him whirl the rotten leaves.
