Time poems
/ page 17 of 792 /
Mortality
© Roberts Theodore Goodridge
A little strife--and oh! the long forgetting. A gust of cheering--and the frozen breath.A day of singing--and a night of silence. An hour for living--and an age for death.
Tantramar Revisited
© Sir Charles George Douglas Roberts
Summers and summers have come, and gone with the flight of the swallow;Sunshine and thunder have been, storm, and winter, and frost;Many and many a sorrow has all but died from remembrance,Many a dream of joy fall'n in the shadow of pain
The Salt Flats
© Sir Charles George Douglas Roberts
Here clove the keels of centuries ago Where now unvisited the flats lie bare
O Earth, Sufficing All our Needs
© Sir Charles George Douglas Roberts
O earth, sufficing all our needs, O youWith room for body and for spirit too, How patient while your children vex their soulsDevising alien heavens beyond your blue!
In an Old Barn
© Sir Charles George Douglas Roberts
Tons upon tons the brown-green fragrant hay O'erbrims the mows beyond the time-warped eaves, Up to the rafters where the spider weaves,Though few flies wander his secluded way
The Iceberg
© Sir Charles George Douglas Roberts
I was spawned from the glacier,A thousand miles due northBeyond Cape Chidley;And the spawning,When my vast, wallowing bulk went under,Emerged and heaved aloft,Shaking down cataracts from its rocking sides,With mountainous surge and thunderOutraged the silence of the Arctic sea
The Great and Little Weavers
© Sir Charles George Douglas Roberts
The great and the little weavers,They neither rest nor sleep.They work in the height and the glory,They toil in the dark and the deep.
Ave! (An Ode for the Shelley Centenary, 1892)
© Sir Charles George Douglas Roberts
I Wide marshes ever washed in clearest air,Whether beneath the sole and spectral star The dear severity of dawn you wear,Or whether in the joy of ample day And speechless ecstasy of growing JuneYou lie and dream the long blue hours away Till nightfall comes too soon,Or whether, naked to the unstarred night,You strike with wondering awe my inward sight, --
II Go forth to you with longing, though the yearsThat turn not back like your returning streams And fain would mist the memory with tears,Though the inexorable years deny My feet the fellowship of your deep grass,O'er which, as o'er another, tenderer sky, Cloud phantoms drift and pass, --You know my confident love, since first, a child,Amid your wastes of green I wandered wild
White Flock
© Anna Akhmatova
Copyright Anna Akhmatova
Copyright English translation by Ilya Shambat (ilya_shambat@yahoo.com)
Origin: http://www.geocities.com/ilya_shambat/akhmatova.html
Parable
© Reibetanz John
The first time I appreciatedthe story of the prodigal sonand how -- to the chagrinof the righteous brother who'd stayedat home minding his mannersalong with the company store --the father laid on dinnerwith cakes and wine galorewhen the selfish oaf went brokeand came running home for a blessing,instead of giving him a dressing-down, and a swift kick,
was when, a father myself,I tried my hand at bakingangels: thin, delicatemiracles -- performed without breakinga single wing! Forty-six,and then the last two felland shattered
Iris Holden, District Nurse
© Reibetanz John
`Love's mysteries in souls do grow,But yet the body is his book.'
Daily Bread
© Reibetanz John
We have cried often when we have given them the little victualling wehad to give them; we had to shake them, and they have fallen to sleepwith the victuals in their mouths many a time
The Contractor
© Reibetanz John
When God made me, there was a war on:Supplies were scarce, so He did it on the cheap.Oh, not that He produced a moronOr paraplegic by starving my fetal sleep --
Stans Puer ad Mensam
© Raleigh Walter Alexander
Attend my words, my gentle knave, And you shall learn from meHow boys at dinner may behave With due propriety.
My Last Will
© Raleigh Walter Alexander
When I am safely laid away,Out of work and out of play,Sheltered by the kindly groundFrom the world of sight and sound,One or two of those I leaveWill remember me and grieve,Thinking how I made them gayBy the things I used to say;-- But the crown of their distressWill be my untidiness
The Artist
© Raleigh Walter Alexander
The Artist and his Luckless WifeThey lead a horrid haunted life,Surrounded by the things he's madeThat are not wanted by the trade.
Prais'd be Diana's Fair and Harmless Light
© Ralegh Sir Walter
Prais'd be Diana's fair and harmless light;Prais'd be the dews wherewith she moists the ground;Prais'd be her beams, the glory of the night;Prais'd be her power by which all powers abound.
The Nymph's Reply
© Ralegh Sir Walter
If all the world and love were young,And truth in every shepherd's tongue,These pretty pleasures might me moveTo live with thee and be thy love.
Soliloquy of a Maiden Aunt
© Radford Dollie
The ladies bow, and partners set,And turn around and pirouette And trip the Lancers.
