Time poems
/ page 439 of 792 /
To One In A Silent Time
© Alice Meynell
Who looked for thee, thou little song of mine?
This winter of a silent poet's heart
Is suddenly sweet with thee, but what thou art,
Mid-winter flower, I would I could divine.
Poems - Written On The Deaths Of Three Lovely Children
© Jean Ingelow
Yellow leaves, how fast they flutter-woodland hollows thickly strewing,
Where the wan October sunbeams scantly in the mid-day win,
While the dim gray clouds are drifting, and in saddened hues imbuing
All without and all within!
The Months
© Linda Pastan
Contorted by wind,
mere armatures for ice or snow,
the trees resolve
to endure for now,
" Do kings put faith in fortressed walls, and bar"
© Robert Laurence Binyon
Do kings put faith in fortressed walls, and bar
Their cities' gates, as strong to keep out war?
The constancy of friends is stronger far.
Are lilies pure, that in some vale unknown
Ancestor
© James Russell Lowell
It was a time when they were afraid of him.
My father, a bare man, a gypsy, a horse
Glory
© Robert Pinsky
Pindar, poet of the victories, fitted names
And legends into verses for the chorus to sing:
Names recalled now only in the poems of Pindar:
Visitation by Jeffrey Harrison: American Life in Poetry #115 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate 2004-200
© Ted Kooser
Each of the senses has a way of evoking time and place. In this bittersweet poem by Jeffrey Harrison of Massachusetts, birdsong offers reassurance as the speaker copes with loss.
Visitation
Unholy Sonnet 13
© Mark Jarman
Drunk on the Umbrian hills at dusk and drunk
On one pink cloud that stood beside the moon,
Fears In Solitude. Written In April, 1798, During The Alarm Of An Invasion
© Samuel Taylor Coleridge
A green and silent spot, amid the hills,
A small and silent dell! O'er stiller place
No singing sky-lark ever poised himself.
The hills are heathy, save that swelling slope,
Improvisations: Light And Snow: 08
© Conrad Aiken
Many things perplex me and leave me troubled,
Many things are locked away in the white book of stars
An Essay on Man: Epistle I
© Alexander Pope
To Henry St. John, Lord Bolingbroke
Awake, my St. John! leave all meaner things
Over The Hills
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
Over the hills and the valleys of dreaming
Slowly I take my way.
Life is the night with its dream-visions teeming,
Death is the waking at day.
Pygmaeo-gerano-machia: The Battle Of The Pygmies and Cranes
© James Beattie
Nor less th' alarm that shook the world below,
Where march'd in pomp of war th' embattled foe;
Where mannikins with haughty step advance,
And grasp the shield, and couch the quivering lance;
To right and left the lengthening lines they form,
And rank'd in deep array await the storm.
Vernal Ode
© William Wordsworth
I
BENEATH the concave of an April sky,
When all the fields with freshest green were dight,
Appeared, in presence of the spiritual eye
From Violence to Peace
© James Russell Lowell
Twenty-eight shotgun pellets
crater my thighs, belly and groin.
I gently thumb each burnt bead,
fingering scabbed stubs with ointment.
Immigrant Blues
© Li-Young Lee
People have been trying to kill me since I was born,
a man tells his son, trying to explain
the wisdom of learning a second tongue.
Sonnet XXXVIII: First Time He Kissed Me
© Elizabeth Barrett Browning
First time he kissed me, he but only kissed
The finger of this hand wherewith I write;
Esther, A Sonnet Sequence: LII
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
I lived with Esther, not for many days,
If days be counted by the fall of night
And the sun's rising, yet through years of praise,
If truth be timepiece of joys infinite.
