Time poems
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The time has come for us to become madmen in your chain
© Mewlana Jalaluddin Rumi
The time has come for us to become madmen in your chain, to
burst our bonds and become estranged from all;
To yield up our souls, no more to bear the disgrace of such a
soul, to set fire to our house, and run like fire to the tavern.
What News
© Walter Savage Landor
Here, ever since you went abroad,
If there be change, no change I see,
I only walk our wonted road,
The road is only walkt by me.
A Song in Time of Revolution. 1860
© Algernon Charles Swinburne
THE HEART of the rulers is sick, and the high-priest covers his head:
For this is the song of the quick that is heard in the ears of the dead.
Corinna, from Athens, to Tanagra
© Walter Savage Landor
Tanagra! think not I forget
Thy beautifully-storeyd streets;
Altarwise By Owl-Light
© Dylan Thomas
Altarwise by owl-light in the half-way house
The gentleman lay graveward with his furies;
The Trio
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
We love but once. The great gold orb of light
From dawn to even-tide doth cast his ray;
But the full splendor of his perfect might
Is reached but once throughout the livelong day.
The Mysteries Remain
© Hilda Doolittle
The mysteries remain,
I keep the same
cycle of seed-time
and of sun and rain;
At Ithaca
© Hilda Doolittle
Over and back,
the long waves crawl
and track the sand with foam;
night darkens, and the sea
Winter In Spring
© Arthur Symons
Winter is over, and the ache of the year
Quieted into test;
The torn boughs heal, and the time of the leaf is near,
And the time of the nest.
Wherein Obscurely
© Charles Simic
On the road with billowing poplars,
In a country flat and desolate
To the far-off gray horizon, wherein obscurely,
A man and a woman went on foot,
The Partial Explanation
© Charles Simic
Seems like a long time
Since the waiter took my order.
Grimy little luncheonette,
The snow falling outside.
The Initiate
© Charles Simic
St. John of the Cross wore dark glasses
As he passed me on the street.
St. Theresa of Avila, beautiful and grave,
Turned her back on me.
A Book Full of Pictures
© Charles Simic
Father studied theology through the mail
And this was exam time.
Mother knitted. I sat quietly with a book
Full of pictures. Night fell.
My hands grew cold touching the faces
Of dead kings and queens.
Changgan Memories
© Li Po
When first my hair began to cover my forehead,
I picked and played with flowers before the gate.
You came riding on a bamboo horse,
And circled the walkway, playing with green plums.
The Pool
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
By the pool that I see in my dreams, dear love,
I have sat with you time and again;
And listened beneath the dank leaves, dear love,
To the sibilant sound of the rain.
Ode to Melancholy
© Thomas Hood
Come, let us set our careful breasts,
Like Philomel, against the thorn,
To aggravate the inward grief,
That makes her accents so forlorn;
Heights Of Folly
© Charles Simic
O crows circling over my head and cawing!
I admit to being, at times,
Suddenly, and without the slightest warning,
Exceedingly happy.
