Time poems
/ page 533 of 792 /
King Saul at Gilboa
© Henry Kendall
With noise of battle and the dust of fray,
Half hid in fog, the gloomy mountain lay;
Life
© Edith Wharton
We climbed the slopes of solitude, and there
Life met a god, who challenged her and said:
"Thy pipe against my lyre!" But "Wait!" she laughed,
And in my live flank dug a finger-hole,
And wrung new music from it. Ah, the pain!
The Ruined Cottage
© Letitia Elizabeth Landon
None will dwell in that cottage; for, they say
Oppression reft it from an honest man,
The Louse-Hunters
© Aldous Huxley
When the child's forehead, full of torments red,
Cries out for sleep and its pale host of dreams,
His two big sisters come unto his bed,
Having long fingers, tipped with silvery gleams.
"The Laughing Hours Before Her Feet"
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
The laughing Hours before her feet,
Are scattering spring-time roses,
Song of the Son
© Jean Toomer
Pour O pour that parting soul in song
O pour it in the sawdust glow of night
Hearts Chill Between
© Christina Georgina Rossetti
I did not chide him, though I knew
That he was false to me.
Chide the exhaling of the dew,
The ebbing of the sea,
The fading of a rosy hue,
But not inconstancy.
The Legend Of St. Sophia Of Kioff
© William Makepeace Thackeray
A worthy priest he was and a stout
You've seldom looked on such a one;
For, though he fasted thrice in a week,
Yet nevertheless his skin was sleek;
His waist it spanned two yards about
And he weighed a score of stone.
The One Before The Last
© Rupert Brooke
I dreamt I was in love again
With the One Before the Last,
And smiled to greet the pleasant pain
Of that innocent young past.
Christmas in the year of the War
© Katharine Tynan
The stem, the branch quickeneth
With sap, this year of Death.
The Basset-Table : An Eclogue
© Alexander Pope
Cardelia.
The Basset-Table spread, the Tallier come;
Why stays Smilinda in the Dressing-Room?
Rise, pensive Nymph, the Tallier waits for you:
Child-Songs
© John Greenleaf Whittier
Still linger in our noon of time
And on our Saxon tongue
The echoes of the home-born hymns
The Aryan mothers sung.
The Sleepers
© Walt Whitman
I WANDER all night in my vision,
Stepping with light feet, swiftly and noiselessly stepping and
stopping,
Bending with open eyes over the shut eyes of sleepers,
Wandering and confused, lost to myself, ill-assorted, contradictory,
Pausing, gazing, bending, and stopping.
Sonnet 120: "That you were once unkind befriends me now,..."
© William Shakespeare
That you were once unkind befriends me now,
And for that sorrow, which I then did feel,
The New World
© Robert Laurence Binyon
To the People of the United States
Now is the time of the splendour of Youth and Death.
He Gives His Beloved Certain Rhymes
© William Butler Yeats
Fasten your hair with a golden pin,
And bind up every wandering tress;
I bade my heart build these poor rhymes:
It worked at them, day out, day in,
Building a sorrowful loveliness
Out of the battles of old times.
Gramercy Park
© Sara Teasdale
The little park was filled with peace,
The walks were carpeted with snow,
But every iron gate was locked.
Lest if we entered, peace would go.
