Time poems
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On Winter
© George Moses Horton
When smiling Summer's charms are past,
The voice of music dies;
Then Winter pours his chilling blast
From rough inclement skies.
Malcolm's Katie: A Love Story - Part IV.
© Isabella Valancy Crawford
High grew the snow beneath the low-hung sky,
And all was silent in the Wilderness;
In trance of stillness Nature heard her God
Rebuilding her spent fires, and veil'd her face
While the Great Worker brooded o'er His work.
Awake ye muses nine, sing me a strain divine
© Emily Dickinson
1
Awake ye muses nine, sing me a strain divine,
Senlin: A Biography Pt 02: His Futile Preoccupations
© Conrad Aiken
Vine leaves tap my window,
Dew-drops sing to the garden stones,
The robin chips in the chinaberry tree
Repeating three clear tones.
English Poets: Shelley
© James McIntyre
We have scarcely time to tell thee
Of the strange and gifted Shelley,
Kind hearted man, but ill-fated,
So youthful drowned and cremated.
To J. P.
© John Greenleaf Whittier
John Pierpont, the eloquent preacher and poet of Boston.
Not as a poor requital of the joy
Hyperion. Book III
© John Keats
Thus in altemate uproar and sad peace,
Amazed were those Titans utterly.
Bequest
© Emily Dickinson
You left me, sweet, two legacies, --
A legacy of love
A Heavenly Father would content,
Had He the offer of;
Ajanta
© Muriel Rukeyser
CAME in my full youth to the midnight cave
nerves ringing; and this thing I did alone.
Greek Funeral Chant Or Myriologue
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
A WAIL was heard around the bed, the death-bed of the young,
Amidst her tears the Funeral Chant a mournful mother sung.
-"Ianthis! dost thou sleep?-Thou sleep'st!-but this is not the rest,
The breathing and the rosy calm, I have pillow'd on my breast!
The Death of Morgan
© Anonymous
Throughout Australian History no tongue or pen can tell
Of such preconcerted treachery - there is no parallel -
As the tragic deed of Morgan's death; without warning he was shot,
On Peechelba Station it will never be forgot.
Buddha And Brahma
© Henry Brooks Adams
Then gently, still in silence, lost in thought,
The Buddha raised the Lotus in his hand,
His eyes bent downward, fixed upon the flower.
No more! A moment so he held it only,
Then his hand sank into its former rest.
The Wonder-Working Magician - Act III
© Denis Florence MacCarthy
DEMON. Why, how is this, that using your free-will
More than my precept meant,
Say for what end, what object, what intent,
Through ignorance or boldness can it be,
You thus come forth the sun's bright face to see?
In Making Bodies Love Could Not Express
© Thomas Traherne
In making bodies Love could not express
Itself, or art, unless it made them less.
Emancipation
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
Fling out your banners, your honors be bringing,
Raise to the ether your paeans of praise.
Strike every chord and let music be ringing!
Celebrate freely this day of all days.
Toussaint LOuverture
© John Greenleaf Whittier
'T WAS night. The tranquil moonlight smile
With which Heaven dreams of Earth, shed down
Its beauty on the Indian isle,
On broad green field and white-walled town;
February
© John Payne
HOW long, o Lord, how long the Winter's woes?
Is it to purge the world of sin and stain
It Must Give Pleasure
© Wallace Stevens
I
To sing jubilas at exact, accustomed times,
To be crested and wear the mane of a multitude
And so, as part, to exult with its great throat,
