Time poems
/ page 474 of 792 /Chateau Gaillard
© Robert Laurence Binyon
Shattered tower and desolated keep
Darken; far below the river shines
Under cliffs that round the twilight sweep,
Rock--rough headlands on the sky's confines
Couch asleep.
October on the Sheep Range
© Arthur Chapman
There ain't no leaves to turn to gold-
There ain't a tree in sight-
In other ways the herder's told
October's come, all right.
Italy : 39. The Fountain
© Samuel Rogers
It was a well
Of whitest marble, white as from the quarry;
And richly wrought with many a high relief,
Greek sculpture -- in some earlier day perhaps
'39'
© Henry Lawson
Then heres the living Forties!
The Forties! The Forties!
Then heres the living Forties!
Were good for ten years more.
Ode To Maize
© Pablo Neruda
But, poet, let
history rest in its shroud;
praise with your lyre
the grain in its granaries:
sing to the simple maize in the kitchen.
September, 1918
© Amy Lowell
This afternoon was the colour of water falling through sunlight;
The trees glittered with the tumbling of leaves;
Of Coarse Fools
© Sebastian Brant
Vile, scolding words do irritate,
Good manners thereby will abate
If sow-bell's rung from morn to late.
Morituri Salutamus: Poem for the Fiftieth Anniversary of the Class of 1825 in Bowdoin College
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Tempora labuntur, tacitisque senescimus annis,
Et fugiunt freno non remorante dies.
Ovid, Fastorum, Lib. vi.
"O Cæsar, we who are about to die
Salute you!" was the gladiators' cry
In the arena, standing face to face
With death and with the Roman populace.
Allegro Maestoso
© William Ernest Henley
Spring winds that blow
As over leagues of myrtle-blooms and may;
The Calling Motherland
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
On the lone height of some untrodden hill
The shadowy mother goes,
Address To Thought
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
OH thou! the musing, wakeful pow'r,
That lov'st the silent, midnight hour,
Thy lonely vigils then to keep,
And banish far the angel, sleep,
Ehue! Fugaces, Posthume, Labuntur Anni
© Jones Very
Fleeting years are ever bearing
In their silent course away
All that in our pleasures sharing
Lent to life a cheering ray.
To a Young Poet
© Mahmoud Darwish
Don’t believe our outlines, forget them
and begin from your own words.
As if you are the first to write poetry
or the last poet.
Wishes
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
I wish we could live as the flowers live,
To breathe and to bloom in the summer and sun;
Dawn
© Louise Gluck
Years and years — that’s how much time passes.
All in a dream. But the duck —
no one knows what happened to that.
To the Right Honourable The Countess Dowager Of Devonshire, On A Piece Of Wiessen's
© Matthew Prior
Wiessen and nature held a long contest
If she created or he painted best;
I Wasn’t One of the Six Million: And What Is My Life Span? Open Closed Open
© John Wesley
3
And what is my life span? I’m like a man gone out of Egypt:
the Red Sea parts, I cross on dry land,
two walls of water, on my right hand and on my left.
Pharaoh’s army and his horsemen behind me. Before me the desert,
perhaps the Promised Land, too. That is my life span.
Illumination
© Robert Laurence Binyon
Is it joy, or is it peace,
Senses' magical release,
That triumphant swells my heart
Where I walk the fields apart?