Time poems
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At Christmas
© Edgar Albert Guest
A man is at his finest towards the finish of the year;
He is almost what he should be when the Christmas season's here;
The Eve Of All-Saints
© Madison Julius Cawein
This is the tale they tell,
Of an Hallowe'en;
This is the thing that befell
Me and the village Belle,
Beautiful Aimee Dean.
A Vine-Arbour In The Far West
© Jean Ingelow
Laura, my Laura! 'Yes, mother!' 'I want you, Laura; come down.'
'What is it, mother-what, dearest? O your loved face how it pales!
You tremble, alas and alas-you heard bad news from the town?'
'Only one short half hour to tell it. My poor courage fails-
The Road Through Chaos
© Alfred Noyes
There is one road, one only, to the Light:
A narrow way, but Freedom walks therein;
A straight, firm road through Chaos and old Night,
And all these wandering Jack-o-Lents of Sin.
Sonnett - IX
© James Russell Lowell
My Love, I have no fear that thou shouldst die;
Albeit I ask no fairer life than this,
The Maids Of Attitash
© John Greenleaf Whittier
In sky and wave the white clouds swam,
And the blue hills of Nottingham
Through gaps of leafy green
Across the lake were seen,
Ben Nevis: A Dialogue
© John Keats
There was one Mrs. Cameron of 50 years of age and the fattest woman in all Inverness-shire who got up this Mountain some few years ago -- true she had her servants -- but then she had her self. She ought to have hired Sisyphus, -- "Up the high hill he heaves a huge round -- Mrs. Cameron." 'Tis said a little conversation took place between the mountain and the Lady. After taking a glass of W[h]iskey as she was tolerably seated at ease she thus began --
Mrs. C.
Green Apple Time
© Edgar Albert Guest
Green apple time! an', Oh, the joy
Once more to be a healthy boy,
Salmacis and Hermaphroditus.
© Francis Beaumont
MY wanton lines doe treate of amorous loue,
Such as would bow the hearts of gods aboue:
A Canadian Boat Song
© Thomas Moore
FAINTLY as tolls the evening chime
Our voices keep tune and our oars keep time.
Soon as the woods on shore look dim,
We'll sing at St. Ann's our parting hymn.
Row, brothers, row, the stream runs fast,
The rapids are near and the daylight's past.
The Longest Day
© William Wordsworth
Let us quit the leafy arbor,
And the torrent murmuring by;
For the sun is in his harbor,
Weary of the open sky.
The Roman Centurion's Song
© Rudyard Kipling
Legate, I had the news last night -my cohort ordered home
By ships to Portus Itius and thence by road to Rome.
I've marched the companies aboard, the arms are stowed below:
Now let another take my sword. Command me not to go!
Telling The Bees
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
They are coming, the bees, for the time is in blossom;
They are coming, the bees, from the West, South, and East;
They hum "donas Sasan," they hum "Sonas Eireann,
We gather the honey, prepare for the feast."
Creation
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
The impulse of all love is to create.
God was so full of love, in his embrace
The Little Old Lady In Lavender Silk
© Dorothy Parker
I was seventy-seven, come August,
I shall shortly be losing my bloom;
I've experienced zephyr and raw gust
And (symbolical) flood and simoom.
On Lending a Punch-Bowl
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
This ancient silver bowl of mine, it tells of good old times,
Of joyous days and jolly nights, and merry Christmas times;
They were a free and jovial race, but honest, brave, and true,
Who dipped their ladle in the punch when this old bowl was new.
The Emigrants Address To America
© Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
All hail to thee, noble and generous Land!
With thy prairies boundless and wide,
Thy mountains that tower like sentinels grand,
Thy lakes and thy rivers of pride!
