Time poems
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Margaret Of Cortona
© Edith Wharton
I rave, you say? You start from me, Fra Paolo?
Go, then; your going leaves me not alone.
I marvel, rather, that I feared the question,
Since, now I name it, it draws near to me
With such dear reassurance in its eyes,
And takes your place beside me. . .
Manhattan Streets I Saunter'd, Pondering
© Walt Whitman
Manhatten's streets I saunter'd, pondering,
On time, space, reality-on such as these, and abreast with them,
prudence.
Unfortunate Coincidence
© Dorothy Parker
By the time you swear you're his,
Shivering and sighing,
And he vows his passion is
Infinite, undying -
Lady, make a note of this:
One of you is lying.
Written Soon After The Preceding Poem
© Charles Lamb
Thou should'st have longer liv'd, and to the grave
Have peacefully gone down in full old age!
Decius Brutus, On The Coast Of Portugal
© Richard Monckton Milnes
Never did Day, her heat and trouble o'er,
Proclaim herself more blest,
Than when, beside that Lusitanian shore,
She wooed herself to rest:
Genesis BK VIII
© Caedmon
(ll. 389-400) "But now we suffer throes of hell, fire and
darkness, bottomless and grim. God hath thrust us out into the
Auri Sacra Fames
© George Essex Evans
Gone are the mists of old in the light of the larger day!
Gone is the foolish hope, the trust in a Power above!
Science has swept the heavens and brushed religion away!
What need we hope or fear? Warfare is clothed like Love!
Priestcraft is but a tradesouls can be bought and sold!
Why should we seek for a godnow that our god is Gold?
The Dead Beggar
© Charlotte Turner Smith
AN ELEGY.
Addressed to a Lady, who was affected at seeing the
Funeral of a nameless Pauper, buried at the ex-
pense of the Parish, in the Church-Yard at Bright-
Shine, Republic
© Robinson Jeffers
The quality of these trees, green height; of the sky, shining, of
water, a clear flow; of the rock, hardness
And reticence: each is noble in its quality. The love of freedom
has been the quality of Western man.
Dickens
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
METHINKS the air
Throbs with the tolling of harmonious bells,
Rung by the bands of spirits; everywhere
We feel the presence of a soft despair
And thrill to voices of divine farewells.
The Song For Colin
© Sara Teasdale
I sang a song at dusking time
Beneath the evening star,
And Terence left his latest rhyme
To answer from afar.
A Little Bit Of Garden
© William Henry Ogilvie
We need no crown or sceptre,
for now that it is spring,
just a little bit of garden-
and every man's a king!
Across The Door
© Padraic Colum
THE fiddles were playing and playing,
The couples were out on the floor;
From converse and dancing he drew me,
And across the door.
Dear phantoms of my summer's golden
© William Herbert Carruth
Dear phantoms of my summer's golden
dream!
To Olinthus Gregory, On Hearing Of The Death Of His Eldest Son, Who Was Drowned As He Was Returning
© Letitia Elizabeth Landon
IS there a spot where Pity's foot,
Although unsandalled, fears to tread,
A silence where her voice is mute,
Where tears, and only tears, are shed?
