Time poems
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And Her Mother Came Too
© Titheradge Dion
I seem to be the victim of a cruel jest,It dogs my footsteps with the girl I love the best.She's just the sweetest thing that I have ever known,But still we never get the chance to be alone.
A Poem, Addressed to the Lord Privy Seal, on the Prospect of Peace
© Thomas Tickell
To The Lord Privy SealContending kings, and fields of death, too long,Have been the subject of the British song
The Lake
© Thorley Wilfred Charles
Thus ever drawn toward far shores uncharted, Into eternal darkness borne away,May we not ever on Time's sea, unthwarted, Cast anchor for a day?
The Castle of Indolence: Canto I
© James Thomson
The Castle hight of Indolence,And its false luxury;Where for a little time, alas!We liv'd right jollily.
Mrs. Johnson Objects
© Thompson Clara Ann
Come right in this house, Will Johnson! Kin I teach you dignity?Chasin' aft' them po' white children, Jest because you wan' to play.
Locksley Hall Sixty Years After
© Alfred Tennyson
Late, my grandson! half the morning have I paced these sandy tracts,Watch'd again the hollow ridges roaring into cataracts,
In Memoriam A. H. H. OBIIT MDCCCXXXIII: 131
© Alfred Tennyson
O living will that shalt endure When all that seems shall suffer shock, Rise in the spiritual rock,Flow thro' our deeds and make them pure,
In Memoriam A. H. H. OBIIT MDCCCXXXIII [all 133 poems]
© Alfred Tennyson
[Preface] Whom we, that have not seen thy face, By faith, and faith alone, embrace,Believing where we cannot prove;
The Gardener 38
© Rabindranath Tagore
My love, once upon a time your poet launched a great epic in his mind
Fruit-gathering XXXVI
© Rabindranath Tagore
UPAGUPTA, the disciple of Buddha, lay asleep on the dust by the city wall of Mathura
Art Poetique
© Arthur Symons
Music first and foremost of all!Choose your measure of odd not even,Let it melt in the air of heaven,Pose not, poise not, but rise and fall.
Atalanta in Calydon: A Tragedy (complete text)
© Algernon Charles Swinburne
Tous zontas eu dran. katthanon de pas anerGe kai skia. to meden eis ouden repei
Atalanta in Calydon
© Algernon Charles Swinburne
When the hounds of spring are on winter's traces, The mother of months in meadow or plainFills the shadows and windy places With lisp of leaves and ripple of rain;And the brown bright nightingale amorousIs half assuaged for Itylus,For the Thracian ships and the foreign faces, The tongueless vigil, and all the pain
Of the Death of Sir T. W. The Elder
© Henry Howard
Wyatt resteth here, that quick could never rest;Whose heavenly gifts increased by disdain,And virtue sank the deeper in his breast;Such profit he by envy could obtain.
Farmer's Daughter
© Sullivan Rosemary
I spent the longest timetrying to find you,the vague woman in a houseroaring with a man's need.
