Time poems
/ page 708 of 792 /
To Himself
© Giacomo Leopardi
Now will you rest forever,
My tired heart. Dead is the last
deception,
That I thought eternal. Dead. Well I
Infinite
© Giacomo Leopardi
These solitary hills have always been dear to me.
Seated here, this sweet hedge, which blocks the distant horizon opening inner silences and interminable distances.
I plunge in thought to where my heart, frightened, pulls back.
Like the wind which I hear tossing the trembling plants which surround me, a voice from the inner depths of spirit shakes the certitudes of thought.
We Are Going
© Oodgeroo Noonuccal
They came in to the little town
A semi-naked band subdued and silent
All that remained of their tribe.
They came here to the place of their old bora ground
Love Poem
© John Frederick Nims
My clumsiest dear, whose hands shipwreck vases,
At whose quick touch all glasses chip and ring,
Whose palms are bulls in china, burs in linen,
And have no cunning with any soft thing
My Last Dance
© Julia Ward Howe
Then, like a gallant swimmer, flinging high
My breast against the golden waves of sound,
I rode the madd'ning tumult of the dance,
Mocking fatigue, that never could be found.
Mother's Day Proclamation
© Julia Ward Howe
Arise then...women of this day!
Arise, all women who have hearts!
Whether your baptism be of water or of tears!
Say firmly:
Battle Hymn of the Republic
© Julia Ward Howe
He has sounded out the trumpet that shall never call retreat,
He has waked the earth's dull sorrow with a high ecstatic beat,
Oh! be swift my soul to answer him, be jubilant my feet
Our God is marching on.
Quarantine
© Eavan Boland
In the worst hour of the worst season
of the worst year of a whole people
a man set out from the workhouse with his wife.
He was walking-they were both walking-north.
Outside History
© Eavan Boland
These are outsiders, always. These stars
these iron inklings of an Irish January,
whose light happened
thousands of years before
The Growth of Love
© Robert Seymour Bridges
So in despite of sorrow lately learn'd
I still hold true to truth since thou art true,
Nor wail the woe which thou to joy hast turn'd
Nor come the heavenly sun and bathing blue
To my life's need more splendid and unearn'd
Than hath thy gift outmatch'd desire and due.
Pater Filio
© Robert Seymour Bridges
Sense with keenest edge unusèd,
Yet unsteel'd by scathing fire;
Lovely feet as yet unbruisèd
On the ways of dark desire;
Sweetest hope that lookest smiling
O'er the wilderness defiling!
Low Barometer
© Robert Seymour Bridges
The south-wind strengthens to a gale,
Across the moon the clouds fly fast,
The house is smitten as with a flail,
The chimney shudders to the blast.
In autumn moonlight, when the white air wan
© Robert Seymour Bridges
In autumn moonlight, when the white air wan
Is fragrant in the wake of summer hence,
'Tis sweet to sit entranced, and muse thereon
In melancholy and godlike indolence:
A Weed is a flower in the wrong place
© Ian Emberson
A weed is a flower in the wrong place,
a flower is a weed in the right place,
if you were a weed in the right place
you would be a flower;
Violence ( Goya "The Third of May 1808")
© Ian Emberson
The brain - the brush
here celebrate
that long red stain
seeping the universe .
The unquiet city
© Chris Mansell
we are succulents
our cool jade arms open
over clean tables our fine bone
china minds pull the strings
the good soldier
© Chris Mansell
on someone else's place
it seems to him the land
slings distance way out
the dirt is dead and
Crossroads
© Joyce Sutphen
The second half of my life will be ice
breaking up on the river, rain
soaking the fields, a hand
held out, a fire,
and smoke going
upward, always up.
Blake's Sunflower
© Elizabeth Smart
1Why did Blake say
'Sunflower weary of time'?
Every time I see them
they seem to say
