Time poems
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Enoch Arden
© Alfred Tennyson
At length she spoke `O Enoch, you are wise;
And yet for all your wisdom well know I
That I shall look upon your face no more.'
Ode To Apollo
© James Lister Cuthbertson
"Tandem venias precamur
Nube candentes humeros amictus
Augur Apollo."
A Day's Ride
© Anonymous
Bold are the mounted robbers who on stolen horses ride
And bold the mounted troopers who patrol the Sydney side;
But few of them, though flash they be, can ride, and few can fight
As Walker did, for life and death, with Ward the other night.
The Flood of Years
© William Cullen Bryant
A MIGHTY Hand, from an exhaustless Urn,
Pours forth the never-ending Flood of Years,
Disenchanted
© Augusta Davies Webster
Alas, I thought this forest must be true,
And would not change because of my changed eyes;
The Romane Monarchy, being the fourth and last, beginningAnno Mundi , 3213.
© Anne Bradstreet
prologue
After some dayes of rest, my restless heart
An Old Memory
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
How sweet the music sounded
That summer long ago,
When you were by my side, love,
To list its gentle flow.
Doc Sifers
© James Whitcomb Riley
Of all the doctors I could cite you to in this-'ere town
Doc Sifers is my favorite, jes' take him up and down!
Count in the Bethel Neighberhood, and Rollins, and Big Bear,
And Sifers' standin's jes' as good as ary doctor's there!
Nocturno (Nocturne)
© Delmira Agustini
Mi cuarto:…
Por un bello milagro de la luz y del fuego
Mi cuarto es una gruta de oro y gemas raras:
Tiene un musgo tan suave, tan hondo de tapices,
Y es tan vívida y cálida, tan dulce que me creo
Dentro de un corazón…
An Account Of The Greatest English Poets
© Joseph Addison
Blest Man! whose spotless Life and Charming Lays
Employ'd the Tuneful Prelate in thy Praise:
Blest Man! who now shall be for ever known
In Sprat's successful Labours and thy own.
Mist And Rain
© Charles Baudelaire
Late autumns, winters, spring-times steeped in mud,
anaesthetizing seasons! You I praise, and love
for so enveloping my heart and brain
in vaporous shrouds, in sepulchres of rain.
The Playmate
© Rudyard Kipling
She is not Folly - that I know.
Her steadfast eyelids tell me so
When, at the hour the lights divide,
She steals as summonsed to my side.
By occasion of the Young Prince his happy birth
© Henry King
At this glad Triumph, when most Poets use
Their quill, I did not bridle up my Muse
For sloth or less devotion. I am one
That can well keep my Holy-dayes at home;
The House Of Dust: Part 03: 10:
© Conrad Aiken
From time to time, lifting his eyes, he sees
The soft blue starlight through the one small window,
The moon above black trees, and clouds, and Venus,
And turns to write . . . The clock, behind ticks softly.
Love's Own.
© Robert Crawford
Ah, that hair no age can dye
That is golden in Love's eye,
And that face time cannot touch
On which Love has gazed so much.
Portrait Of A Baby
© Stephen Vincent Benet
He lay within a warm, soft world
Of motion. Colors bloomed and fled,
The Statues
© Robert Laurence Binyon
Tarry a moment, happy feet,
That to the sound of laughter glide!
O glad ones of the evening street,
Behold what forms are at your side!
