Time poems
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The Meadow Lark
© Hamlin Garland
A BRAVE little bird that fears not God,
A voice that breaks from the snow-wet clod
Don Juan: Canto The Thirteenth
© George Gordon Byron
I now mean to be serious;--it is time,
Since laughter now-a-days is deem'd too serious.
Imelda
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
……………….Sometimes
The young forgot the lessons they had learnt,
And lov'd when they should hate, like thee, Imelda! ~ Italy, a Poem
The Miracle Of The Corn
© Padraic Colum
SCENE: The interior of FARDORROUGHA'S house. The door at back R.; the hearth L.; the window R. is only conventionally represented.
What is actually shown is a bin for corn (corn in the sense of any kind of grain, as the word is used in Ireland the breadstuff and the symbol of fertility), shelves with vessels, benches, and a shrine. The bin projects from back C.; the shelves
with vessels are each side of the bin; the shrine is R.; it holds a small statue of the Blessed Virgin, and a rosary of large beads hangs from it; the benches are R. and L. One is at the conventional fireplace, and the other is down from the conventional door.
All the persons concerned in the action are on the scene when it opens, and they remain on the scene. They only enter the action when they go up to where the bin is. Going back to the places they had on the benches takes them out of the action.
On the bench near the hearth sit the people of FARDORROUGHA'S household FARDORROUGHA, SHEILA, PAUDEEN, AISLINN. On the bench near the door sit the strangers three women, one of whom has a child with her, and SHAUN o' THE BOG. The people are dressed in greys and browns, and brown is the colour of the interior. The three women and SHAUN o' THE BOG are poorly dressed; the women are barefooted. PAUDEEN is dressed rudely, and sandals of hide are bound across his feet. FARDORROUGHA,
SHEILA, and AISLINN are comfortably dressed.
Trust in Providence
© John Logan
Almighty Father of mankind,
On thee my hopes remain;
And when the day of trouble comes,
I shall not trust in vain.
The Boy's Candidate
© James Whitcomb Riley
Las' time 'at Uncle Sidney come,
He bringed a watermelon home--
An' half the boys in town,
Come taggin' after him.--An' he
Says, when we et it,--_"Gracious me!
'S the boy-house fell down?"_
Geist's Grave
© Matthew Arnold
Four years!--and didst thou stay above
The ground, which hides thee now, but four?
And all that life, and all that love,
Were crowded, Geist! into no more?
A Lamentation
© Algernon Charles Swinburne
Or ever the stars were made, or skies,
Grief was born, and the kinless night,
Mother of gods without form or name.
And light is born out of heaven and dies,
And one day knows not anothers light,
But night is one, and her shape the same.
A Hyde Park Larrikin
© Henry Kendall
Most likely you have stuck to tracts
Flushed through with flaming curses -
I judge you, neighbour, by your acts -
So don't you damn my verses.
The Suicides Grave
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
This is the scene of a man's despair, and a soul's release
From the difficult traits of the flesh; so, it seeking peace,
To Henry Halloran
© Henry Kendall
YOU KNOW I left my forest home full loth,
And those weird ways I knew so well and long,
Dishevelled with their sloping sidelong growth
Of twisted thorn and kurrajong.
Ode to Health, 1730
© William Shenstone
O Health! capricious maid!
Why dost thou shun my peaceful bower,
Where I had hope to share thy power,
And bless thy lasting aid?
Intellectual Limitations
© James Whitcomb Riley
Parunts knows lots more than us,
But they don't know _all_ things,--
'Cause we ketch 'em, lots o' times,
Even on little small things.
The Open Fire
© Edgar Albert Guest
There in the flame of the open grate,
All that is good in the past I see:
Our Banker
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
OLD TIME, in whose bank we deposit our notes,
Is a miser who always wants guineas for groats;
He keeps all his customers still in arrears
By lending them minutes and charging them years.
The Descent Of The Muses
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Nine sisters, beautiful in form and face,
Came from their convent on the shining heights
Connecticut
© Fitz-Greene Halleck
still her gray rocks tower above the sea
That crouches at their feet, a conquered wave;
'Tis a rough land of earth, and stone, and tree,
Where breathes no castled lord or cabined slave;
