Time poems
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The First Part: Sonnet 12 - Ah! burning thoughts, now let me take some rest,
© William Henry Drummond
Ah! burning thoughts, now let me take some rest,
And your tumultuous broils a while appease;
Sic Vita
© Henry David Thoreau
A nosegay which Time clutched from out
Those fair Elysian fields,
With weeds and broken stems, in haste,
Doth make the rabble rout
That waste
The day he yields.
Painexpands the Time
© Emily Dickinson
Painexpands the Time
Ages coil within
The minute Circumference
Of a single Brain
The Broadstone
© Robinson Jeffers
NEAR FINVOY, COUNTY ANTRIM
We climbed by the old quarries to the wide highland of heath,
I am the autumnal sun
© Henry David Thoreau
Sometimes a mortal feels in himself Nature
-- not his Father but his Mother stirs
within him, and he becomes immortal with her
immortality. From time to time she claims
kindredship with us, and some globule
from her veins steals up into our own.
Inspiration
© Henry David Thoreau
But if with bended neck I grope
Listening behind me for my wit,
With faith superior to hope,
More anxious to keep back than forward it;
The Moon
© Henry David Thoreau
Time wears her not; she doth his chariot guide;
Mortality below her orb is placed.
--Raleigh
Composed In Autumn
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
WITH these dead leaves stripped from a withered tree,
And slowly fluttering round us, gentle friend,
Some faithless soul a sad presage might blend;
To me they bring a happier augury;
Friendship
© Henry David Thoreau
I fain would ask my friend how it can be,
But when the time arrives,
Then Love is more lovely
Than anything to me,
And so I'm dumb.
Resolution And Independence
© William Wordsworth
I There was a roaring in the wind all night;
The rain came heavily and fell in floods;
But now the sun is rising calm and bright;
The birds are singing in the distant woods;
To Roosevelt {1}
© Rubén Dario
You are strong, proud model of your race;
you are cultured and able; you oppose Tolstoy.
You are an Alexander-Nebuchadnezzar,
breaking horses and murdering tigers.
(You are a Professor of Energy,
as current lunatics say).
A Son
© Rudyard Kipling
My son was killed while laughing at some jest, I would
I knew
What it was and it might serve me in a time when jests
are few.
The Black Mammy
© James Weldon Johnson
O whitened head entwined in turban gay,
O kind black face, O crude, but tender hand,
O foster-mother in whose arms there lay
The race whose sons are masters of the land!
Dream Song 120: Foes I sniff, when I have less to shout
© John Berryman
Foes I sniff, when I have less to shout
or murmur. Pals alone enormous sounds
downward & up bring real.
Loss, deaths, terror. Over & out,
beloved: thanks for cabbage on my wounds:
I'll feed you how I feel:â
Paradise Lost : Book V.
© John Milton
Now Morn, her rosy steps in the eastern clime
Advancing, sowed the earth with orient pearl,
Epilogue:XXI 'Tristram of Lyonesse'
© Algernon Charles Swinburne
OUR MOTHER, which wast twice, as history saith,
Found first among the nations: once, when she
The Two Peacocks of Bedfont
© Thomas Hood
I
Alas! That breathing Vanity should go
Where Pride is buried,like its very ghost,
Uprisen from the naked bones below,
The Mysterious Visitor
© Vasily Andreyevich Zhukovsky
Spirit, lovely guest, who are you?
Whence have you flown down to us?
Dream Song 96: Under the table, no. That last was stunning
© John Berryman
Under the table, no. That last was stunning,
that flagon had breasts. Some men grow down cursed.
Why drink so, two days running?
two months, O seasons, years, two decades running?
I answer (smiles) my question on the cuff:
Man, I been thirsty.
Sonnet XII. To Mrs. Siddons
© Samuel Taylor Coleridge
As when a child on some long winter's night
Affrighted clinging to its Grandam's knees
With eager wond'ring and perturbed delight
Listens strange tales of fearful dark decrees
