Time poems

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There's many a schoolboy's bat and ball that are gathering dust at home,
For he hears a voice in the future call, and he trains for the war to come;
A serious light in his eyes is seen as he comes from the schoolhouse gate;
He keeps his kit and his rifle clean, and he sees that his back is straight.

Of The Wooing Of Halbiorn The Strong

© William Morris

A STORY FROM THE LAND-SETTLING BOOK OF ICELAND, CHAPTER XXX.

This Is The First Thing

© Philip Larkin

This is the first thing
I have understood:
Time is the echo of an axe
Within a wood.

Triple Time

© Philip Larkin

This empty street, this sky to blandness scoured,
This air, a little indistinct with autumn
Like a reflection, constitute the present --
A time traditionally soured,
A time unrecommended by event.

The Spirit Wooed

© Philip Larkin

Once I believed in you,
And then you came,
Unquestionably new, as fame
Had said you were. But that was long ago.

Life

© Samuel Taylor Coleridge

As late I journey'd o'er the extensive plain
Where native Otter sports his scanty stream,
Musing in torpid woe a Sister's pain,
The glorious prospect woke me from the dream.

Skin

© Philip Larkin

Obedient daily dress,
You cannot always keep
That unfakable young surface.
You must learn your lines -
Anger, amusement, sleep;
Those few forbidding signs

Granta: A Medley

© George Gordon Byron

Oh! could Le Sage's demon's gift
Be realized at my desire,
This night my trembling form he'd lift
To place it on St. Mary's spire.

Send No Money

© Philip Larkin

Standing under the fobbed
Impendent belly of Time
Tell me the truth, I said,
Teach me the way things go.

But One Loaf

© John Newton

When the disciples crossed the lake
With but one loaf on board;
How strangely did their hearts mistake
The caution of their Lord.

The Two Highwaymen

© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt

I LONG have had a quarrel set with Time

Because he robb'd me. Every day of life

A Story At Dusk

© Ada Cambridge

An evening all aglow with summer light

And autumn colour-fairest of the year.

Vers De Société

© Philip Larkin

My wife and I have asked a crowd of craps
To come and waste their time and ours: perhaps
You'd care to join us? In a pig's arse, friend.
Day comes to an end.
The gas fire breathes, the trees are darkly swayed.
And so Dear Warlock-Williams: I'm afraid--

Not Goo Hwome To-Night

No, no, why you've noo wife at hwome

Abidèn up till you do come,

Goldilocks And Goldilocks

It was Goldilocks woke up in the morn

At the first of the shearing of the corn.

Story

Settled. And in this mirage lived his dreams,
The friendly bully, saint, or lovely chum
According to his moods. Yet he at times
Would think about his village, and would wonder
If the children and the rocks were still the same.