Time poems
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© James Montgomery
There is a land, of every land the pride,
Beloved by heaven, o'er all the world beside;
Mother And Child
© Robert Laurence Binyon
By old blanched fibres of gaunt ivy bound,
The hollow crag towers under noon's blue height.
Ribbed ledges, lizard--haunted crannies white,
Cushioned with stone--crop and with moss embrowned,
Book Seventh [Residence in London]
© William Wordsworth
Returned from that excursion, soon I bade
Farewell for ever to the sheltered seats
Of gowned students, quitted hall and bower,
And every comfort of that privileged ground,
Well pleased to pitch a vagrant tent among
The unfenced regions of society.
The Family Party
© Edgar Albert Guest
I SING the family party that once we used to know,
The old time family parties we gave so long ago,
The Tent Of Noon
© Bliss William Carman
Behold, now, where the pageant of the high June
Halts in the glowing noon!
The trailing shadows rest on plain and hill;
The bannered hosts are still,
While over forest crown and mountain head
The azure tent is spread.
John McKeen
© James Whitcomb Riley
John McKeen, in his rusty dress,
His loosened collar, and swarthy throat,
His face unshaven, and none the less,
His hearty laugh and his wholesomeness,
And the wealth of a workman's vote!
The Overlander
© Anonymous
There's a trade you all know well -
It's bringing cattle over:
I'll tell you all about the time
When I became a drover.
Antwerp And Bruges
© Dante Gabriel Rossetti
I climbed the stair in Antwerp church,
What time the circling thews of sound
The Sermon in the Stocking
© Anonymous
The supper is over, the hearth is swept,
And in the wood-fire's glow
The children cluster to hear a tale
Of that time so long ago,
Metamorphoses: Book The Third
© Ovid
The End of the Third Book.
Translated into English verse under the direction of
Sir Samuel Garth by John Dryden, Alexander Pope, Joseph Addison,
William Congreve and other eminent hands
Ilicet
© Algernon Charles Swinburne
THERE is an end of joy and sorrow;
Peace all day long, all night, all morrow,
But never a time to laugh or weep.
The end is come of pleasant places,
The end of tender words and faces,
The end of all, the poppied sleep.
The Poets
© Thomas Bailey Aldrich
When this young Land has reached its wrinkled prime,
And we are gone and all our songs are done,
Sweet Danger
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
The danger of war, with its havoc of life,
The danger of ocean, when storms are rife,
Songs with Preludes: Dominion
© Jean Ingelow
I.
Yon mooréd mackerel fleet
Hangs thick as a swarm of bees,
Or a clustering village street
Foundationless built on the seas.
The Fairy West
© Henry Lawson
P.S.: I was in Yewklid the day I finished
Me edyercashun in those times dim
My younger brother cleared out to Queensland,
Twas mountains and rivers that finished him.
