Time poems
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You And Your Body
© Edgar Albert Guest
WHOM is your boy going to for advice?
Tough Johnny Jones at the end of the street,
Rough Billy Green or untaught Jimmy Price?
Who is now guiding his innocent feet?
Who takes him walking or swimming today,
You, or the stranger just over the way?
Dream Song 2: Big Buttons, Cornets: the advance
© John Berryman
The jane is zoned! no nightspot here, no bar
there, no sweet freeway, and no premises
for business purposes,
no loiterers or needers. Henry are
baffled. Have ev'ybody head for Maine,
utility-man take a train?
Catharina
© William Cowper
She came--she is gone--we have met--
And meet perhaps never again;
The sun of that moment is set,
And seems to have risen in vain.
Dream Song 29: There sat down, once, a thing
© John Berryman
There sat down, once, a thing on Henry's heart
só heavy, if he had a hundred years
& more, & weeping, sleepless, in all them time
Henry could not make good.
Starts again always in Henry's ears
the little cough somewhere, an odour, a chime.
Sonnet V. To A Friend Who Sent Me Some Roses
© John Keats
As late I rambled in the happy fields,
What time the skylark shakes the tremulous dew
From his lush clover covert;when anew
Adventurous knights take up their dinted shields;
Dream Song 70: Disengaged, bloody, Henry rose from the shell
© John Berryman
Disengaged, bloody, Henry rose from the shell
where in theior racing start his seat got wedged
under his knifing knees,
he did it on the runners, feathering,
being bow, catching no crab. The ridges were sore
& tore chamois. It was not done with ease.
Sonnet 117 - All we were going strong
© John Berryman
The weather's changing. This morning was cold,
as I made for the grove, without expectation,
some hundred Sonnets in my pocket, old,
to read her if she came. Presently the sun
yellowed the pines & my lady came not
in blue jeans & a sweater. I sat down & wrote.
Roan Stallion
© Robinson Jeffers
She rose at length, she unknotted the halter; she walked and led
the stallion; two figures, woman and stallion,
Came down the silent emptiness of the dome of the hill, under
the cataract of the moonlight.
Between Ghent And Bruges
© Dante Gabriel Rossetti
AH yes, exactly so; but when a man
Has trundled out of England into France
Sonnet 115 - All we were going strong last night this time
© John Berryman
The weather's changing. This morning was cold,
as I made for the grove, without expectation,
some hundred Sonnets in my pocket, old,
to read her if she came. Presently the sun
yellowed the pines & my lady came not
in blue jeans & a sweater. I sat down & wrote.
To The Autumn Wind
© Alfred Austin
O envious Autumn wind, to blow
From covert vale and woodland crest
The Legend of King Arthur
© Thomas Percy
Of Brutus' blood, in Brittaine borne,
King Arthur I am to name;
Through Christendome and Heathynesse
Well knowne is my worthy fame.
The Coin
© Sara Teasdale
INTO my heart's treasury
I slipped a coin
That time cannot take
Nor a thief purloin,
The Maid-Servant At The Inn
© Dorothy Parker
"It's queer," she said; "I see the light
As plain as I beheld it then,
All silver-like and calm and bright-
We've not had stars like that again!
In The Hill At New Grange
© Robinson Jeffers
Great upright stones higher than the height of a man are our walls,
Huge overlapping stones are the summer clouds in our sky.
The hill of boulders is heaped over all. Each hundred years
One of the enormous stones will move an inch in the dark.
Each double century one of the oaks on the crown of the mound
Above us breaks in a wind, an oak or an ash grows.
The Cloud's Swan-Song
© Francis Thompson
There is a parable in the pathless cloud,
There's prophecy in heaven,--they did not lie,
The Chaldee shepherds; seal-ed from the proud,
To cheer the weighted heart that mates the seeing eye.
The Curse
© John Berryman
Cedars and the westward sun.
The darkening sky. A man alone
Watches beside the fallen wall
The evening multitudes of sin
At the Top of My voice
© Vladimir Mayakovsky
Professor,
take off your bicycle glasses!
I myself will expound
those times
and myself.
The Virgin Martyr
© Ada Cambridge
Every wild she-bird has nest and mate in the warm April weather,
But a captive woman, made for love - no mate, no nest has she.
In the spring of young desire, young men and maids are wed together,
And the happy mothers flaunt their bliss for all the world to see:
Nature's sacramental feast for these - an empty board for me.
Poemes Saturniens - Prologue
© Paul Verlaine
The Sages of old time, well worth our own,
Believed--and it has been disproved by none--
