Time poems
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Mine Own John Poynz
© Sir Thomas Wyatt
Mine own John Poynz, since ye delight to know
The cause why that homeward I me draw,
And flee the press of courts, whereso they go,
Rather than to live thrall under the awe
Ballad of Autumn
© Marie E J Pitt
DOWN harvest headlands the fairy host
Of the poppy banners have flashed and fled,
Farewell Love and all thy Laws for ever
© Sir Thomas Wyatt
Farewell love and all thy laws forever;Thy baited hooks shall tangle me no more
The Planet On The Table
© Wallace Stevens
Ariel was glad he had written his poems.
They were of a remembered time
Or of something seen that he liked.
LXXXIV From: Cien sonetos de amor
© Pablo Neruda
One time more, my love, the net of light extinguishes
work, wheels, flames, boredoms and farewells,
and we surrender the swaying wheat to night,
the wheat that noon stole from earth and light.
To Stella Visiting Me in My Sickness
© Jonathan Swift
Pallas, observing Stella's wit
Was more than for her sex was fit,
And that her beauty, soon or late,
Might breed confusion in the state,
To Mother
© Marina Tsvetaeva
In the old Strauss waltz for the first time
We had listened to your quiet call,
Since then all the living things are alien
And the knocking of the clock consoles.
The Fairy Book
© Norman Rowland Gale
In summer, when the grass is thick, if Mother has the time,
She shows me with her pencil how a poet makes a rhyme,
And often she is sweet enough to choose a leafy nook,
Where I cuddle up so closely when she reads the Fairy-book.
Grey Hairs
© Marina Tsvetaeva
These are ashes of treasures:
Of hurt and loss.
These are ashes in face of which
Granite is dross.
The Trance of Time
© John Henry Newman
"Felix, qui potuit rerum cognoscere causas,
Atque metus omnes, et inexorabile fatum
Subjecit pedibus, strepitumque Acherontis avari!"
Ailsie, My Bairn
© Eugene Field
Lie in my arms, Ailsie, my bairn,-
Lie in my arms and dinna greit;
Long time been past syn I kenned you last,
But my harte been allwais the same, my swete.
Bar Italia
© Hugo Williams
How beautiful it would be to wait for you again
in the usual place,
not looking at the door,
keeping a lookout in the long mirror,
Timer
© Hugo Williams
The smell of ammonia in the entrance hall.
The racing bike. The junk mail.
The timer switch whose single naked bulb
allowed us as far as the first floor.
The backs of your legs
as you went ahead of me up the stairs.
Siren Song
© Hugo Williams
I phone from time to time, to see if she's
changed the music on her answerphone.
'Tell me in two words', goes the recording,
'what you were going to tell in a thousand'.
In My Youth I Was a Tireless Dancer
© Edward Dorn
But now I pass
graveyards in a car.
The dead lie,
unsuperstitiously,
The Passing Of The Primroses
© Alfred Austin
Primroses
Nay, rather, why should we longer stay?
We are not needed, now stooping showers
Have sandalled the feet of May with flowers.
The Sicilian Captive
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
The champions had come from their fields of war,
Over the crests of the billows far,
They had brought back the spoils of a hundred shores,
Where the deep had foam'd to their flashing oars.
We Must Get Home
© James Whitcomb Riley
We must get home! How could we stray like this?--
So far from home, we know not where it is,--
Only in some fair, apple-blossomy place
Of children's faces--and the mother's face--
We dimly dream it, till the vision clears
Even in the eyes of fancy, glad with tears.
Reflections From The Flash Of A Meteor
© George Moses Horton
So teach me to regard my day,
How small a point my life appears;
One gleam to death the whole betrays,
A momentary flash of years.
