Time poems
/ page 481 of 792 /
The White Doe Of Rylstone, Or, The Fate Of The Nortons - Canto First
© William Wordsworth
FROM Bolton's old monastic tower
The bells ring loud with gladsome power;
The sun shines bright; the fields are gay
With people in their best array
I Step Across The Mystic Border-Land
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
I step across the mystic border-land,
And look upon the wonder-world of Art.
How beautiful, how beautiful its hills!
And all its valleys, how surpassing fair!
Realities
© Kenneth Slessor
(To the etchings of Norman Lindsay)
Now the statues lean over each to each, and sing,
Gravely in warm plaster turning; the hedges are dark.
The trees come suddenly to flower with moonlight,
Elvir-Shades
© George Borrow
A sultry eve pursu'd a sultry day;
Dark streaks of purple in the sky were seen,
And shadows half conceal'd the lonely way;
How Jack Made The Giants Uncommonly Sore
© Guy Wetmore Carryl
And this is The Moral that lies in the verse:
If you have a go farther, you're apt to fare
Worse.
(When you turn it around it is different rather: -
You're not apt to go worse if you have a fair
father!)
Blind Mary
© Thomas Osborne Davis
There flows from her spirit such love and delight,
That the face of Blind Mary is radiant with light--
As the gleam from a homestead through darkness will show
Or the moon glimmer soft through the fast falling snow.
A Chippewa Legend
© James Russell Lowell
The old Chief, feeling now wellnigh his end,
Called his two eldest children to his side,
My Part
© Edgar Albert Guest
I may never be a hero, I am past the limit now,
There are pencil marks of silver Time has left upon my brow;
I shall win no service medals, I shall hear no cannons' roar,
I shall never fight a battle higher up than eagles soar,
But I hope my children's children may recall my name with pride
As a man who never whimpered when his soul was being tried.
Quare Fatigasti
© Adam Lindsay Gordon
Two years ago I was thinking
On the changes that years bring forth;
Recitative
© Hart Crane
Regard the capture here, 0 Janus-faced,
As double as the hands that twist this glass.
Such eves at search or rest you cannot see;
Reciting pain or glee, how can you bear!
Unanswered
© Madison Julius Cawein
How long ago it is since we went Maying!
Since she and I went Maying long ago!-
The Golden Legend: II. A Farm In The Odenwald
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
_Elsie._ Here are flowers for you,
But they are not all for you.
Some of them are for the Virgin
And for Saint Cecilia.
To Idleness
© Harriet Monroe
Sweet Idleness, you linger at the door
To lead me down through meadows cool with shade
For Christmas Day
© Charles Wesley
Hark, how all the welkin rings,
"Glory to the King of kings;
Peace on earth, and mercy mild,
God and sinners reconcil'd!"
Songs Of Seven (complete)
© Jean Ingelow
There’s no dew left on the daisies and clover,
There’s no rain left in heaven:
I’ve said my “seven times” over and over,
Seven times one are seven.
Gone
© John Greenleaf Whittier
Another hand is beckoning us,
Another call is given;
And glows once more with Angel-steps
The path which reaches Heaven.
Heaven, 1963 by Kim Noriega: American Life in Poetry #120 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate 2004-2006
© Ted Kooser
He's standing in our yard on Porter Road
beneath the old chestnut tree.
He's wearing sunglasses,
a light cotton shirt,
and a dreamy expression.
