Time poems
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Our March
© Vladimir Mayakovsky
Beat the squares with the tramp of rebels!
Higher, rangers of haughty heads!
We'll wash the world with a second deluge,
Nows the hour whose coming it dreads.
To All and Everything
© Vladimir Mayakovsky
Above the capitals madness
I raised my face,
stern as the faces of ancient icons.
Sorrow-rent,
on your body as on a death-bed, its days
my heart ended.
Remords Posthume (Posthumous Remorse)
© Charles Baudelaire
Lorsque tu dormiras, ma belle ténébreuse,
Au fond d'un monument construit en marbre noir,
Et lorsque tu n'auras pour alcôve et manoir
Qu'un caveau pluvieux et qu'une fosse creuse;
How Rudeness And Kindness Were Justly Rewarded
© Guy Wetmore Carryl
The Moral of the tale is: Bah!
Nous avons change tout cela.
No clear idea I hope to strike
Of what our nicest girl is like,
But she whose best young man I am
Is not an oyster, nor a clam!
The Immoral Proposition
© Robert Creeley
If you never do anything for anyone else
you are spared the tragedy of human relation-
Notes To Be Left In A Cornerstone
© Stephen Vincent Benet
So, always, there were the streets and the high, clear light
And it was a crowded island and a great city;
They built high up in the air.
The Sailing Of The Long-Ships
© Sir Henry Newbolt
They saw the cables loosened, they saw the gangways cleared,
They heard the women weeping, they heard the men that cheered;
Far off, far off, the tumult faded and died away,
And all alone the sea-wind came singing up the Bay.
Home's Kid (For Glenn)
© Dale Harcombe
This time I know
I will never see him again.
For a time he played the game,
like a child experimenting with blocks,
Mollymook
© Dale Harcombe
All week, in this rented house,
sea spray and whispers of wind
weave through the eucalypts,
like a Sondheim melody.
Bruise blue
© Dale Harcombe
Frail as smoke, she drifts
through the crowded train,
bringing with her
the cold ashes of poverty.
Brass Kaleidoscope
© Dale Harcombe
I had a kaleidoscope once.
Sometimes
I still see oblique patterns.
XIII: Epistle: To Katherine, Lady Aubigny
© Benjamin Jonson
'Tis growne almost a danger to speake true
Of any good minde, now: There are so few.
Two Centuries
© Katharine Lee Bates
Above the tall elms' green-plumed tops, etched against low-hung, gray-hued skies,
Straight as the heaven-kissing pine, the home-bound mariner descries
The goodly spire of the old first church, reverend, serene, with old-time grace,
Symbol and sign of an inner life deep-sealed by time's slow carven trace.
Curse of the Cat Woman
© Edward Field
It sometimes happens
that the woman you meet and fall in love with
is of that strange Transylvanian people
with an affinity for cats.
Frankenstein
© Edward Field
The monster has escaped from the dungeon
where he was kept by the Baron,
who made him with knobs sticking out from each side of his neck
where the head was attached to the body
and stitching all over
where parts of cadavers were sewed together.
The Star-Splitter
© Robert Frost
We've looked and looked, but after all where are we?
Do we know any better where we are,
And how it stands between the night tonight
And a man with a smoky lantern chimney?
How different from the way it ever stood?
The Grindstone
© Robert Frost
Having a wheel and four legs of its own
Has never availed the cumbersome grindstone
To get it anywhere that I can see.
These hands have helped it go, and even race;
The Generations of Men
© Robert Frost
A governor it was proclaimed this time,
When all who would come seeking in New Hampshire
Ancestral memories might come together.
And those of the name Stark gathered in Bow,
Seed-Time And Harvest
© Ada Cambridge
Fret not thyself so sorely, heart of mine,
For that the pain hath roughly broke thy rest,-
That thy wild flowers lie dead upon thy breast,
Whereon the cloud-veiled sun hath ceased to shine.
The Census-Taker
© Robert Frost
I came an errand one cloud-blowing evening
To a slab-built, black-paper-covered house
Of one room and one window and one door,
The only dwelling in a waste cut over
