Time poems
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A Farewell
© Edith Nesbit
Good-bye, good-bye; it is not hard to part!
You have my heart--the heart that leaps to hear
Your name called by an echo in a dream;
You have my soul that, like an untroubled stream,
Reflects your soul that leans so dear, so near -
Your heartbeats set the rhythm for my heart.
Sylvester’s Dying Bed
© Langston Hughes
I woke up this mornin’
’Bout half-past three.
All the womens in town
Was gathered round me.
Winter Roses
© John Greenleaf Whittier
My garden roses long ago
Have perished from the leaf-strewn walks;
Their pale, fair sisters smile no more
Upon the sweet-brier stalks.
Becoming a Redwood
© Dana Gioia
Stand in a field long enough, and the sounds
start up again. The crickets, the invisible
toad who claims that change is possible,
The Hour of the Angel
© Rudyard Kipling
Sooner or late-in earnest or in jest-
(But the stakes are no jest) Ithuriel's Hour
Paradise Regain'd: Book III (1671)
© Patrick Kavanagh
SO spake the Son of God, and Satan stood
A while as mute confounded what to say,
The Recluse - Book First
© William Wordsworth
HOME AT GRASMERE
ONCE to the verge of yon steep barrier came
A roving school-boy; what the adventurer's age
Hath now escaped his memory--but the hour,
Creatures
© Billy Collins
Hamlet noticed them in the shapes of clouds,
but I saw them in the furniture of childhood,
creatures trapped under surfaces of wood,
Paradise Lost: Book IX (1674)
© Patrick Kavanagh
To whom the Virgin Majestie of Eve,
As one who loves, and some unkindness meets,
With sweet austeer composure thus reply'd,
Mummia
© Rupert Brooke
As those of old drank mummia
To fire their limbs of lead,
Making dead kings from Africa
Stand pandar to their bed;
The Painter Dreaming in the Scholar’s House
© Howard Nemerov
The painter’s eye follows relation out.
His work is not to paint the visible,
He says, it is to render visible.
Night (This night, agitated by the growing storm)
© Rainer Maria Rilke
This night, agitated by the growing storm,
how it has suddenly expanded its dimensions-,
that ordinarily would have gone unnoticed,
like a cloth folded, and hidden in the folds of time.
Proem.
© Robert Crawford
I only knew one poet in my life.
BROWNING.
I have not known a poet but myself,
If I'm indeed one, as I ought to be,
The Bard
© Vasily Andreyevich Zhukovsky
My friends, can you descry that mound of earth
Above clear waters in the shade of trees?
Sonnets Of The Blood VIII
© Allen Tate
Not power nor the casual hand of God
Shall keep us whole in our dissevering air,
