Time poems
/ page 487 of 792 /
Sonnet VII: On His Being Arriv'd To The Age Of 23
© John Milton
How soon hath Time, the subtle thief of youth,
Stol'n on his wing my three-and-twentieth year!
Manfred: A Dramatic Poem. Act III.
© George Gordon Byron
HERMAN
It wants but one till sunset,
And promises a lovely twilight.
Tale VII
© George Crabbe
view,
A useful lass,--you may have more to do."
Dreadful were these commands; but worse than
A Book Of Strife In The Form Of The Diary Of An Old Soul - July
© George MacDonald
1.
ALAS, my tent! see through it a whirlwind sweep!
England and America
© James Kenneth Stephen
. ON A RHINE STEAMER.
Republic of the West,
Enlightened, free, sublime,
Unquestionably best
The Strength Of Fields
© James Dickey
What field-forms can be,
Outlying the small civic light-decisions over
A man walking near home?
Men are not where he is
Exactly now, but they are around him around him like the strength
From The Song of Hiawatha
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The Death of Minnehaha
ALL day long roved Hiawatha
A Song Of Harvest
© John Greenleaf Whittier
This day, two hundred years ago,
The wild grape by the river's side,
And tasteless groundnut trailing low,
The table of the woods supplied.
The Old Year
© Henry Kendall
IT PASSED like the breath of the night-wind away,
It fled like a mist at the dawn of the day;
It lasted its moment, then backward was hurled,
Another increase to the age of the world.
Remembered
© Madison Julius Cawein
Here in the dusk I see her face again
As then I knew it, ere she fell asleep;
Renunciation glorifying pain
Of her soul's inmost deep.
Epilogue: Songs Before Sunrise
© Algernon Charles Swinburne
Between the wave-ridge and the strand
I let you forth in sight of land,
LI SPIRITI IV (Ghosts 4)
© Giuseppe Gioacchino Belli
Un mese, o ppoco ppiù, doppo er guadaggno
De la piastra, che ffece er zanto prete,
Venne la pasqua, e 'r gabbiano che ssapete
Cominciò a lavorà de scacciaraggno.
The Unreturning Spring
© Robert Laurence Binyon
A leaf on the gray sand--path
Fallen, and fair with rime!
A yellow leaf, a scarlet leaf,
And a green leaf ere its time.
The Drovers
© Henry Lawson
Shrivelled leather, rusty buckles, and the rot is in our knuckles,
Scorched for months upon the pommel while the brittle rein hung free;
All Things will Die
© Alfred Tennyson
Over the sky.
One after another the white clouds are fleeting;
Every heart this May morning in joyance is beating
Translation From Alfred De Mussets Ode To Malibran
© Frances Anne Kemble
O Maria Felicia! the Painter and Bard,
Behind them in dying leave undying heirs,
