Time poems
/ page 516 of 792 /
A True Hymne
© George Herbert
My joy, my life, my crown!
My heart was meaning all the day,
Somewhat it fain would say:
And still it runneth mutt'ring up and down
With only this, My joy, my life, my crown.
Quia Nominor Leo: Sonnets
© Algernon Charles Swinburne
I.
WHAT part is left thee, lion? Ravenous beast,
The Viceroy. A Ballad.
© Matthew Prior
Of Nero, tyrant, petty king,
Who heretofore did reign
In famed Hibernia, I will sing,
And in a ditty plain.
Consummatum Est
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
I'VE done with all the world can give,
Whate'er its kind or measure.
(O Christ! what paltry lives we live
If toil be lord, or pleasure!).
Hesperides
© Harry Kemp
Beyond the blue rim of the world,
Washed round with languid-lapsing seas,
Where the Wind's wings were ever furled
The Ancients dreamed Hesperides.
The Angel In The House. Book II. The Prologue.
© Coventry Kersey Dighton Patmore
II
The pulse of War, whose bloody heats
Sane purposes insanely work,
Now with fraternal frenzy beats,
And binds the Christian to the Turk,
And shrieking fifes
To George, Earl Delwarr
© George Gordon Byron
Oh! yes, I will own we were dear to each other;
The friendships of childhood, though fleeting are true;
The love which you felt was the love of a brother,
Nor less the affection I cherish'd for you.
Certainties
© Margaret Widdemer
WHETHER you live by hut or throne
Whether your feet tread stone or grass
Comes the one lad you shall never own
Or the one lass;
To A Victor In A Game Of Pallone
© Giacomo Leopardi
The face of glory and her pleasant voice,
O fortunate youth, now recognize,
Makin' It Natural
© Sheldon Allan Silverstein
I'm gonna throw my grass out the window
Crumple up my papers too
Give away my speed, Cause all I'm gonna need
Is just a little bit of love from you
The Old Garden
© George MacDonald
I stood in an ancient garden
With high red walls around;
Over them grey and green lichens
In shadowy arabesque wound.
Noontide Hymn
© George MacDonald
I love thy skies, thy sunny mists,
Thy fields, thy mountains hoar,
Thy wind that bloweth where it lists-
Thy will, I love it more.
The Boat On The Serchio
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
Our boat is asleep on Serchio's stream,
Its sails are folded like thoughts in a dream,
The helm sways idly, hither and thither;
Dominic, the boatman, has brought the mast,
And the oars, and the sails; but tis sleeping fast,
Like a beast, unconscious of its tether.
A Pair
© Jane Taylor
Soft his existence rolls away,
To-morrow plenteous as to-day :
He lives, enjoys, and lives anew,--
And when he dies,--what shall we do !
Venetian Epigrams
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
With such a scroll, which himself richly with life has adorn'd.
-----
CLASP'D in my arms for ever eagerly hold I my mistress,
Sonnet XXXVII: Delia, These Eyes
© Samuel Daniel
Delia, these eyes that so admireth thine
Have seen those walls the which ambition rear'd
The Triumph of Dead : Chap. 1
© Mary Sidney Herbert
That gallant lady, gloriously bright,
The stately pillar once of worthiness,
