Time poems

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On Seeing Anthony, The Eldest Child Of Lord And Lady Ashley

© Caroline Norton

And seeing thee, thou lovely boy,
My soul, reproach'd, gave up its schemes
Of worldly triumph's heartless joy,
For purer and more sinless dreams,
And mingled in my farewell there
Something of blessing and of prayer.

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Lurline (Inscribed to Madame Lucy Escott.)

© Henry Kendall

As you glided and glided before us that time,

 A mystical, magical maiden,

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The Last Act

© Edith Nesbit

NEVER a ring or a lock of hair

  Or a letter stained with tears,

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Oscar Of Alva: A Tale

© George Gordon Byron

How sweetly shines through azure skies,
  The lamp of heaven on Lora's shore;
Where Alva's hoary turrets rise,
  And hear the din of arms no more!

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Pretence. Part I - Table-Talk

© John Kenyon

  The youth, who long hath trod with trusting feet,
  Starts from the flash which shows him life's deceit;
  Then, with slow footstep, ponders, undeceived,
  On all his heart, for many a year, believed;
  But hence he eyes the world with sharpened view,
  And learns, too soon, to separate false from true.

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A Night of Storm

© Archibald Lampman

Darkling and strange art thou thus vexed and chidden;
More dark and strange thy veiled agony,
City of storm, in whose grey heart are hidden
What stormier woes, what lives that groan and beat,
Stern and thin-cheeked, against time's heavier sleet,
Rude fates, hard hearts, and prisoning poverty.

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Remonstrance.

© Sidney Lanier

"Opinion, let me alone:  I am not thine.

Prim Creed, with categoric point, forbear

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Old Friends

© Edgar Albert Guest

I do not say new friends are not considerate and true,

Or that their smiles ain't genuine, but still I'm tellin' you

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The Loiterer

© Dora Sigerson Shorter

When Youth, led on by love and folly, strays,

Kissing sweet eyes beyond the allotted hour

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The Season

© Alfred Austin

So sings the river through the summer days,
And I, submissive, follow what I praise.
What if my boyish blood would rather stay
Where lawns invite, where bonnibels delay,
Though but a youth and not averse from these,
To conflict called, I abdicate my ease,

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Courtship

© Alexander Brome

My Lesbia, let us live and love,
 Let crabbed Age talk what it will.
The sun when down, returns above,
 But we, once dead, must be so still.

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Sonnet XIII:The light that rises from your feet to your hair

© Pablo Neruda

The light that rises from your feet to your hair,
the strength enfolding your delicate form,
are not mother of pearl, not chilly silver:
you are made of bread, a bread the fire adores.

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Elegy On The Death Of Dr. Channing

© James Russell Lowell

I do not come to weep above thy pall,
  And mourn the dying-out of noble powers,
The poet's clearer eye should see, in all
  Earth's seeming woe, seed of immortal flowers.

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Lethe.

© Robert Crawford

The waves of Lethe wash till we forget
Our earthy life and love; and 'twould appear
Before Time's tune possessed us, before we
Let fall the shadow of our meaning here —

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England And Spain

© Felicia Dorothea Hemans

Illustrious names! still, still united beam,
Be still the hero's boast, the poet's theme:
So when two radiant gems together shine,
And in one wreath their lucid light combine;
Each, as it sparkles with transcendant rays,
Adds to the lustre of its kindred blaze.

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Er Duello De Davide (David's Duel)

© Giuseppe Gioacchino Belli

Cos'è er braccio de Dio! mannà un fischietto
Contr'a quer buggiarone de Golìa,
Che si n'avessi avuto fantasia
Lo poteva ammazzà cor un fichetto!

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Marching by Jim Harrison: American Life in Poetry #51 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate 2004-2006

© Ted Kooser

Walt Whitman's poems took in the world through a wide-angle lens, including nearly everything, but most later poets have focused much more narrowly. Here the poet and novelist Jim Harrison nods to Whitman with a sweeping, inclusive poem about the course of life.

Marching

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Riders Of The Stars

© Henry Herbert Knibbs

Twenty abreast down the golden street, ten thousand riders marched;
Bow-legged boys in their swinging chaps, all clumsily keeping time;
And the Angel Host to the lone, last ghost their delicate eyebrows arched
As the swaggering sons of the open range drew up to the Throne Sublime.

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The Train

© Mary Elizabeth Coleridge

A green eye-and a red-in the dark.

Thunder-smoke-and a spark.

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City

© Arthur Rimbaud

I am an ephemeral

and a not too discontented citizen