Time poems
/ page 663 of 792 /
Hermann And Dorothea - IV. Euterpe
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
"Mother," he said in confusion:--"You greatly surprise me!" and quickly
Wiped he away his tears, the noble and sensitive youngster.
"What! You are weeping, my son?" the startled mother continued
"That is indeed unlike you! I never before saw you crying!
Say, what has sadden'd your heart? What drives you to sit here all lonely
Under the shade of the pear-tree? What is it that makes you unhappy?"
April 19
© David Lehman
We have too much exhibitionism
and not enough voyeurism
in poetry we have plenty of bass
and not enough treble, more amber
Knowledge Of God
© Robert Graves
So far from praising he blasphemes
Who says that God has been or is,
Who swears he met with God in dreams
Or face to face in woods and streams,
Meshed in their boundaries.
Big Hair
© David Lehman
Ithaca, October 1993: Jorie went on a lingerie
tear, wanting to look like a moll
in a Chandler novel. Dinner, consisting of three parts gin
and one part lime juice cordial, was a prelude to her hair.
There are, she said, poems that can be written
only when the poet is clad in black underwear.
To A Blank Sheet Of Paper
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
WAN-VISAGED thing! thy virgin leaf
To me looks more than deadly pale,
Unknowing what may stain thee yet,--
A poem or a tale.
When A Woman Loves A Man
© David Lehman
When she says Margarita she means Daiquiri.
When she says quixotic she means mercurial.
And when she says, "I'll never speak to you again,"
she means, "Put your arms around me from behind
as I stand disconsolate at the window."
Late Love
© Jackie Kay
How they strut about, people in love,
How tall they grow, pleased with themselves,
Their hair, glossy, their skin shining.
They don't remember who they have been.
Sound Of Sleat
© Jackie Kay
I always looked out at the world,
And wondered if the world looked back at me,
Standing on the edge of something,
On my face- the wind from the cold sea.
Astrophel and Stella LXXXIV
© Sir Philip Sidney
Highway, since you my chief Parnassus be,And that my Muse, to some ears not unsweet,Tempers her words to trampling horses' feetMore oft than to a chamber melody
A Mate can do no Wrong
© Henry Lawson
We learnt the creed at Hungerford,
We learnt the creed at Bourke;
What Best I See In Thee
© Walt Whitman
WHAT best I see in thee,
Is not that where thou mov'st down history's great highways,
Sonnet XCII: Be Your Words Made
© Sir Philip Sidney
Be your words made, good sir, of Indian ware,
That you allow me them by so small rate?
Or do you cutted Spartans imitate?
Or do you mean my tender ears to spare,
Many Are Called
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Queen of my life! I do not love you less
Because you choose not me to cast your woes on.
It is enough for me you once said ``Yes.''
Many are called by Love, but few are chosen.
Suspiro (Yearning)
© Jose Asuncion Silva
Si en tus recuerdos ves algún día
entre la niebla de lo pasado
surgir la triste memoria mía
medio borrada ya por los años,
Sonnet XXI: Your Words, My Friend
© Sir Philip Sidney
Your words, my friend, (right healthful caustics) blame
My young mind marr'd, whom Love doth windlass so,
That mine own writings like bad servants show
My wits, quick in vain thoughts, in virtue lame;
A Prayer
© Ada Cambridge
Spirit and Breath of Life, whate'er Thy name!
Bear with Thy creature, Man,
That makes his dwelling-place a blot of shame
Upon the Ordered Plan.
The Highway
© Sir Philip Sidney
Highway, since you my chief Parnassus be,
And that my Muse, to some ears not unsweet,
Tempers her words to trampling horses' feet
More oft than to a chamber-melody,--
