Time poems
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"By Eve'ry Sweet Tradition of True Hearts"
© Thomas Hood
By ev'ry sweet tradition of true hearts,
Graven by Time, in love with his own lore;
By all old martyrdoms and antique smarts,
Wherein Love died to be alive the more;
The Scout Toward Aldie
© Herman Melville
Nine Blue-coats went a-nutting
Slyly in Tennessee-
Not for chestnuts - better than that-
Hugh, you bumble-bee!
Nutting, nutting -
All through the year there's nutting!
The Angel In The House. Book II. Canto IX.
© Coventry Kersey Dighton Patmore
III Disappointment
The bliss which woman's charms bespeak,
I've sought in many, found in none!
In many 'tis in vain you seek
What can be found in only one.
Questions And Answers
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
WHERE, oh where are the visions of morning,
Fresh as the dews of our prime?
Gone, like tenants that quit without warning,
Down the back entry of time.
The Swan
© Gavrila Romanovich Derzhavin
I'll leave the mortal world behind,
Take wing in an flight fantastical,
With singing, my eternal soul
Will rise up swan-like in the air.
The Garrison of Cape Ann
© John Greenleaf Whittier
From the hills of home forth looking, far beneath the tent-like span
Of the sky, I see the white gleam of the headland of Cape Ann.
Well I know its coves and beaches to the ebb-tide glimmering down,
And the white-walled hamlet children of its ancient fishing town.
Early Death
© Hartley Coleridge
She pass'd away like morning dew
Before the sun was high;
So brief her time, she scarcely knew
The meaning of a sigh.
A Sorcerer Bids Farewell To Seem
© Sylvia Plath
My native sleight-of-hand is wearing out :
mad hatter's hat yields no new metaphor,
and jabberwock will not translate his songs :
it's time to vanish like the cheshire cat
alone to that authentic island where
cabbages are cabbages; kings : kings.
Sylvia, Methinks You Are Unfit
© Charles Sackville
Sylvia, methinks you are unfit
For your great Lord's embrace;
For tho' we all allow you wit,
We can't a handsome face.
Leonora
© Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
LEONORA, Leonora,
How the word rolls--Leonora--
Lion-like, in full-mouthed sound,
Marching o'er the metric ground
Leader Of The Gang
© Edgar Albert Guest
Seems only just a year ago that he was toddling round the place
In pretty little colored suits and with a pink and shining face.
I used to hold him in my arms to watch when our canary sang,
And now tonight he tells me that he's leader of his gang.
Alfred And Janet
© Robert Bloomfield
At thirteen she was all that Heaven could send,
My nurse, my faithful clerk, my lively friend;
Last at my pillow when I sunk to sleep,
First on my threshold soon as day could peep:
I heard her happy to her heart's desire,
With clanking pattens, and a roaring fire.
The Circling Hearths
© Roderic Quinn
MY Countrymen, though we are young as yet
With little history, nought to show
Griselda: A Society Novel In Verse - Chapter III
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
How long they sat thus silent who shall say?
Griselda knew not. Time was far away;
She wanted courage to prepare her heart
For that last bitterest word of all, ``We part.''
And he cared naught for time. His Heaven was there,
Nor needed thought, nor speech, nor even prayer.
To The Negotiations In Kabul
© Joseph Brodsky
You, the brutal-hearted sky-scraping mountain tribes!
Lamb and horseflesh - is all your menu describes;
Long beards and handcrafted rugs, your loud guttural names;
Never before have seen a sea, not to mention a piano - in your eyes.
Invective Against Swans
© Wallace Stevens
The soul, O ganders, flies beyond the parks
And far beyond the discords of the wind.
The Washers of the Shroud
© James Russell Lowell
Along a riverside, I know not where,
I walked one night in mystery of dream;
A chill creeps curdling yet beneath my hair,
To think what chanced me by the pallid gleam
Of a moon-wraith that waned through haunted air.
