Time poems
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On The Road
© Dante Gabriel Rossetti
October, and eleven after dark:
Both mist and night. Among us in the coach
Sonnet 92: Be Your Words Made
© Sir Philip Sidney
Be your words made, good sir, of Indian ware,
That you allow me them by so small rate?
Idyll XXIII. Love Avenged
© Theocritus
A lad deep-dipt in passion pined for one
Whose mood was froward as her face was fair.
Lovers she loathed, for tenderness she had none:
Ne'er knew what Love was like, nor how he bare
A bow, and arrows to make young maids smart:
Proof to all speech, all access, seemed her heart.
After Her Going
© Francis Thompson
The after-even! Ah, did I walk,
Indeed, in her or even?
For nothing of me or around
But absent She did leaven,
Felt in my body as its soul,
And in my soul its heaven.
Disappointment
© Robert Laurence Binyon
And were they but for this, those passionate schemes
Of joy, that I have nursed? indeed for this
That longings, day and night, have filled my dreams?
Now it has come, the hour of bliss,
How different it seems!
"If the Moon On the Skies..."
© Anna Akhmatova
If the moon on the skies does not roam,
But cools, like a seal above,
My dead husband enters the home
To read the letters of love.
The Demon Of The Study
© John Greenleaf Whittier
The Brownie sits in the Scotchman's room,
And eats his meat and drinks his ale,
And beats the maid with her unused broom,
And the lazy lout with his idle flail;
But he sweeps the floor and threshes the corn,
And hies him away ere the break of dawn.
Punishment
© Edgar Albert Guest
Their childhood is so brief that we
Should hesitate to spoil their fun,
A Father To His Son
© Carl Sandburg
A father sees his son nearing manhood.
What shall he tell that son?
Tale IX
© George Crabbe
course,"
Replied the Youth; "but has it power to force?
Unless it forces, call it as you will,
It is but wish, and proneness to the ill."
"Art thou not tempted?"--"Do I fall?" said
The Studio
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
YOU walk my studio's modest round,
With slowly supercilious air;
While in each lifted eyebrow lurks,
The keenness of an ambushed sneer.
To My Father (Translated From Milton)
© William Cowper
Oh that Pieria's spring would thro' my breast
Pour its inspiring influence, and rush
Guessing Time
© Edgar Albert Guest
It's guessing time at our house; every evening after tea
We start guessing what old Santa's going to leave us on our tree.
Everyone of us holds secrets that the others-try to steal,
And that eyes and lips are plainly having trouble to conceal.
And a little lip that quivered just a bit the other night
Was a sad and startling warning that I mustn't guess it right.
What the Frost Casts Up by Ed Ochester: American Life in Poetry #150 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate
© Ted Kooser
There's a world of great interest and significance right under our feet, but most of us don't think to look down. We spend most of our time peering off into the future, speculating on how we will deal with whatever is coming our way. Or dwelling on the past. Here Ed Ochester stops in the middle of life to look down.
What the Frost Casts Up
Roly Poly
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
ROLY POLY'S just awakened,
Wakened in his cosy bed,
All his dainty ringlets tumbled
O'er his shoulders, and his head:
Eclogue 7: Meliboeus Corydon Thrysis
© Publius Vergilius Maro
CORYDON
"Libethrian Nymphs, who are my heart's delight,
Grant me, as doth my Codrus, so to sing-
Next to Apollo he- or if to this
We may not all attain, my tuneful pipe
Here on this sacred pine shall silent hang."
The Moral Of History
© John Jay Chapman
ALL is one issue, every skirmish tells,
And war is but the picture in the story;
