Time poems
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The Borough. Letter X: Clubs And Social Meetings
© George Crabbe
Next is the Club, where to their friends in town
Our country neighbours once a month come down;
We term it Free-and-Easy, and yet we
Find it no easy matter to be free:
E'en in our small assembly, friends among,
Are minds perverse, there's something will be
April
© John Greenleaf Whittier
'T is the noon of the spring-time, yet never a bird
In the wind-shaken elm or the maple is heard;
Love And Death
© Giacomo Leopardi
Children of Fate, in the same breath
Created were they, Love and Death.
The Crow
© Virna Sheard
Hail, little herald!--Art thou then returning
From summer lands, this wild and wind-torn day?
Hast brought the word for which our hearts are yearning,
That spring is on the way?
Hark! Now there comes a clear, insistent calling,
Baucis And Philemon
© Jonathan Swift
IN ancient times, as story tells,
The saints would often leave their cells,
And stroll about, but hide their quality,
To try good people's hospitality.
Intaglio - Frank Denz
© Henry Kendall
Oh, women and men who have known the perils of weather and wave,
It is sad that my sweet ones are blown under sea without shelter of grave;
I sob like a child in the night, when the gale on the waters is loud
My darlings went down in my sight, with neither a coffin nor shroud.
At Briggflatts Meetinghouse
© Basil Bunting
Boasts time mocks cumber Rome. Wren
set up his own monument.
Others watch fells dwindle, think
the sun's fires sink.
An Instance Of Dyspepsia
© Eli Siegel
I
There is a man of fifty-four years;
He has dyspepsia, it appears;
He chooses his food carefully,
Ireland
© Francis Ledwidge
I called you by sweet names by wood and linn,
You answered not because my voice was new,
And you were listening for the hounds of Finn
And the long hosts of Lugh.
Life Is Lovely All the Year
© William Schwenck Gilbert
When the buds are blossoming,
Smiling welcome to the spring,
Lovers choose a wedding day -
Life is love in merry May!
"An Address to Miss Phillis Wheatly
© Jupiter Hammon
O, come you pious youth: adore
The wisdom of thy God.
In bringing thee from distant shore,
To learn His holy word.
A Maiden To Her Mirror
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
He said he loved me! Then he called my hair
Silk threads wherewith sly Cupid strings his bow,
My cheek a rose leaf fallen on new snow;
And swore my round, full throat would bring despair
To Venus or to Psyche.
The Children Of The Lord's Supper. (From The Swedish Of Bishop Tegner)
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Closed was the Teacher's task, and with heaven in their hearts and their faces,
Up rose the children all, and each bowed him, weeping full sorely,
Downward to kiss that reverend hand, but all of them pressed he
Moved to his bosom, and laid, with a prayer, his hands full of blessings,
Now on the holy breast, and now on the innocent tresses.
On The Death Of Canon Kingsley
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
MORTALS there are who seem, all over, flame,
Vitalized radiance, keen, intense, and high,
Whose souls, like planets in it dominant sky,
Burn with full forces of eternity:
Songs of the Winter Nights
© George MacDonald
Back shining from the pane, the fire
Seems outside in the snow:
So love set free from love's desire
Lights grief of long ago.
A Married Coquette
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
Sit still, I say, and dispense with heroics!
I hurt your wrists? Well, you have hurt me.
The Church-Porch. Perirrhanterium
© George Herbert
Thou, whose sweet youth and early hopes inhance
Thy rate and price, and mark thee for a treasure,
Hearken unto a Vesper, who may chance
Ryme thee to good, and make a bait of pleasure:
A verse may finde him who a sermon flies,
And turn delight into a sacrifice.
