Time poems
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Spectator ab Extra
© Arthur Hugh Clough
As I sat in the Café I said to myself,
They may talk as they please about what they call pelf,
They may sneer as they like about eating and drinking,
But help it I cannot, I cannot help thinking
How pleasant it is to have money, heigh-ho!
How pleasant it is to have money.
Sonnet: Spirit Of Love
© Dante Alighieri
I felt a spirit of love begin to stir
Within my heart, long time unfelt till then;
The Precocious Baby - a Very True Tale
© William Schwenck Gilbert
An elderly person - a prophet by trade -
With his quips and tips
The Cat That Walked by Himself
© Rudyard Kipling
Pussy can sit by the fire and sing,
Pussy can climb a tree,
The Orange-Peel In The Gutter
© Mathilde Blind
BEHOLD, unto myself I said,
This place how dull and desolate,
Notes To A Neophyte
© Sylvia Plath
Take the general mumble,
blunt as the faceless gut
of an anonymous clam,
vernacular as the strut
of a slug or a small preamble
by snail under hump of home:
An Epistle To Fleetwood Shephard, Esq. Burleigh, May 14, 1689
© Matthew Prior
Sir,
As once a twelvemonth to the priest,
That Night It Rained
© Victor Marie Hugo
That night it rained, the tide was high,
A heavy, grey fog covered all the coast,
The Angler's Ballad
© Charles Cotton
AWAY to the brook,
All your tackle out look,
Here's a day that is worth a year's wishing;
See that all things be right,
For 'tis a very spite
To want tools when a man goes a-fishing.
As It Looks To The Boy
© Edgar Albert Guest
His comrades have enlisted, but his mother bids him stay,
His soul is sick with coward shame, his head hangs low to-day,
His eyes no longer sparkle, and his breast is void of pride
And I think that she has lost him though she's kept him at her side.
Oh, I'm sorry for the mother, but I'm sorrier for the lad
Who must look on life forever as a hopeless dream and sad.
New Hampshire
© John Greenleaf Whittier
GOD bless New Hampshire! from her granite peaks
Once more the voice of Stark and Langdon speaks.
The long-bound vassal of the exulting South
For very shame her self-forged chain has broken;
Aside
© Karl Shapiro
Mail-day, and over the world in a thousand drag-nets
The bundles of letters are dumped on the docks and beaches,
And all that is dear to the personal conscious reaches
Around us again like filings around iron magnets,
And war stands aside for an hour and looks at our faces
Of total absorption that seem to have lost their places.
Idyll XXXI. Loves
© Theocritus
Ah for this the most accursed, unendurable of ills!
Nigh two months a fevered fancy for a maid my bosom fills.
Fair she is, as other damsels: but for what the simplest swain
Claims from the demurest maiden, I must sue and sue in vain.
The White-Footed Deer
© William Cullen Bryant
It was a hundred years ago,
When, by the woodland ways,
The traveller saw the wild deer drink,
Or crop the birchen sprays.
Pharsalia - Book III: Massilia
© Marcus Annaeus Lucanus
Phoenicians first (if story be believed)
Dared to record in characters; for yet
Papyrus was not fashioned, and the priests
Of Memphis, carving symbols upon walls
Of mystic sense (in shape of beast or fowl)
Preserved the secrets of their magic art.
Nox 1
© Victor Marie Hugo
At the bottom of your thoughts, this is the night you've chosen,
Prince, you must now make an end of things - the night is frozen
Chicago Castanets
© George Ade
Through all the moving thoroughfares
And in the contending marts of trade;
Unto my Booksso good to turn
© Emily Dickinson
Unto my Booksso good to turn
Far ends of tired Days
It half endears the Abstinence
And Painis missedin Praise
