Time poems
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Time Cures All
© Hilaire Belloc
It was my shame, and now it is my boast,
That I have loved you rather more than most.
In Praise Of Writing Letters
© Anne Kingsmill Finch
Blest be the Man! his Memory at least,
Who found the Art, thus to unfold his Breast,
And taught succeeding Times an easy way
Their secret Thoughts by Letters to convey;
To baffle Absence, and secure Delight,
Which, till that Time, was limited to Sight.
Boris Godunov
© Alexander Pushkin
Boyars, The People, Inspectors, Officers, Attendants, Guests,
a Boy in attendance on Prince Shuisky, a Catholic Priest, a
Polish Noble, a Poet, an Idiot, a Beggar, Gentlemen, Peasants,
Guards, Russian, Polish, and German Soldiers, a Russian
Prisoner of War, Boys, an old Woman, Ladies, Serving-women.
Franklin Hyde
© Hilaire Belloc
His Uncle came upon Franklin Hyde
Carousing in the Dirt.
He Shook him hard from Side to Side
And Hit him till it Hurt,
Balin and Balan
© Alfred Tennyson
Then Balan added to their Order lived
A wealthier life than heretofore with these
And Balin, till their embassage returned.
Heroic Poem in Praise of Wine
© Hilaire Belloc
But since I would not, since I could not stay,
Let me remember even in this my day
How, when the ephemeral vision's lure is past
All, all, must face their Passion at the last
For A War Memorial
© Gilbert Keith Chesterton
The hucksters haggle in the mart
The cars and carts go by;
Senates and schools go droning on;
For dead things cannot die.
Hello, Willie Shoemaker
© Charles Bukowski
the Chinaman said dont take the hardware
and gave me a steak I couldnt cut (except the fat)
Lord Lundy
© Hilaire Belloc
Who was too Freely Moved to Tears, and thereby ruined his Political Career Lord Lundy from his earliest years
Was far too freely moved to Tears.
For instance if his Mother said,
"Lundy! It's time to go to Bed!"
Worth Forest
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Come, Prudence, you have done enough to--day--
The worst is over, and some hours of play
We both have earned, even more than rest, from toil;
Our minds need laughter, as a spent lamp oil,
Meditation
© Mikhail Lermontov
With sadness I survey our present generation!
Their future seems so empty, dark, and cold,
Whoso List to Hunt
© Sir Thomas Wyatt
Whoso list to hunt, I know where is an hind,
But as for me, helas! I may no more.
The vain travail hath worried me so sore,
I am of them that furthest come behind.
They Flee From Me
© Sir Thomas Wyatt
They flee from me that sometime did me seek
With naked foot, stalking in my chamber.
I have seen them gentle, tame, and meek,
That now are wild and do not remember
The Young Man's Song
© Sydney Thompson Dobell
At last the curse has run its date!
The heavens grow clear above,
And on the purple plains of Hate,
We'll build the throne of Love!
The Wishing Gate Destroyed
© William Wordsworth
HOPE rules a land forever green:
All powers that serve the bright-eyed Queen
Are confident and gay;
Clouds at her bidding disappear;
Points she to aught?--the bliss draws near,
And Fancy smooths the way.
Satire II:The Country Mouse and the Town Mouse
© Sir Thomas Wyatt
MY mother's maids, when they did sew and spin,
They sang sometime a song of the field mouse,
That for because her livelood was but thin [livelihood]
Would needs go seek her townish sister's house.
Of the Mean and Sure Estate
© Sir Thomas Wyatt
My mother's maids, when they did sew and spin,
They sang sometime a song of the field mouse,
That, for because her livelood was but thin,
The Mimic Harlequin
© Charles Lamb
"O fie, you naughty child, what have you done?
There never was so mischievous a son.
You've put the cat among my work, and torn
A fine laced cap that I but once have worn."
My Lute Awake
© Sir Thomas Wyatt
My lute awake! perform the lastLabour that thou and I shall waste,And end that I have now begun;For when this song is sung and past,My lute be still, for I have done.
