71 Poems about Time to Make You Think

Time has been a basic component of poetry for virtually as long as literature has existed, just as it is a fundamental component of our life.

The passage of time, the effects of time, the imagery of a ticking clock, or some deeper reflection on the essence of time have all been recurring themes in poetry.

Time is fleeting and doesn’t stop for anyone, which is probably why poets have been fascinated by its power and have written many poems about time.

In this article, we have curated a variety of time poems for our readers.

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Famous Poems about Time

Is time an enemy or a friend? This query we ask ourselves is not just our own. Over the years, many have worried about this question. As a result of which there are a lot of famous poems about time.

1. The Gift of Time

       by Amos Russel Wells

The gift of time, God’s freest boon to men,
So steadily outpoured through days and years!
Thus ever let us yield it back again
ln liberal lives and consecrate careers.
The gift of time, for which no gold is weighed,
Nor least petition offered to the Lord,—
Shall He not still by gratitude be paid,
And all our thankful days be His reward?
The gift of time, fit measure of the heart
Wherewith our Father wholly loves His own,—
Be it a symbol of our lesser part,
Just to be wholly His, and His alone!

2. Athanasia

       by Amos Russel Wells

No sunset fades; its palpitating glory
Of blue and crimson never wholly dies
But, in the joy of some remembered story,
Glows to the welcome of immortal skies.
No blossom perishes; with bloom unfading
Its petals ope in everlasting light.
Its infant amaranthine fragrance lading
The breezes of celestial meadows bright.
No music ceases; mystically holden,
Deep in the heart of ether it abides,
And will return to us the rapture olden
Over the shining of eternal tides.
No feeling dies, no sacred sweet emotion,
No lover’s kiss, no children’s laugh, no prayer;
All are a part of time’s unending ocean.
And we shall find them, some day surely there.
What though our eyes, our ears, our dullard passion
Follow them not to their abiding home!
Soon will they glad us in familiar fashion
When to their deathless mansions we have come.

3. A Moment Too Late

       by Anonymous

A moment too late, my beautiful bird,
A moment too late are you now;
The wind has your soft, downy nest disturbed—
The nest that you hung on the bough.
A moment too late; that string in your bill,
Would have fastened it firmly and strong;
But see, there it goes, rolling over the hill!
Oh, you staid a moment too long.
A moment, one moment too late, busy bee;
The honey has dropped from the flower:
No use to creep under the petals and see;
It stood ready to drop for an hour.
A moment too late; had you sped on your wing,
The honey would not have been gone;
Now you see what a very, a very sad thing
‘T is to stay a moment too long.
Little girl, never be a moment too late,
It will soon end in trouble or crime;
Better be an hour early, and stand and wait,
Than a moment behind the time.
If the bird and the bee, little boy, were too late,
Remember, as you play along
On your way to school, with pencil and slate,
Never stay a moment too long.

4. Thief and Giver

       by Amos Russel Wells

Time’s a thief; he steals away
Many blossoms of to-day.
Joys he steals and also tears,
Pilfers hopes and filches fears.
May the rascal steal from you
Only what you want him to!
Time’s a giver and he brings
Sometimes weights and sometimes wings;
Now his gifts are lasting fair,
Now they vanish in the air.
May the rascal give to you
Only what you want him to!

5. Recessional

       by Sir Charles George Douglas Roberts

Now along the solemn heights
Fade the Autumn’s altar-lights’
Down the great earth’s glimmering chancel
Glide the days and nights.
Little kindred of the grass,
Like a shadow in a glass
Falls the dark and falls the stillness,—
We must rise and pass.
We must rise and follow, wending
Where the nights and days have ending,—
Pass in order pale and slow
Unto sleep extending.
Little brothers of the clod,
Soul of fire and seed of sod,
We must fare into the silence
At the knees of God.
Little comrades of the sky
Wing to wing we wander by,
Going, going, going, going,
Softly as a sigh.
Hark, the moving shapes confer,
Globe of dew and gossamer,
Fading and ephemeral spirits
In the dusk astir.
Moth and blossom, blade and bee,
Worlds must go as well as we,
In the long procession joining
Mount, and star, and sea.
Toward the shadowy brink we climb
Where the round year rolls sublime,
Rolls, and drops, and falls forever
In the vast of time;
Like a plummet plunging deep
Past the utmost reach of sleep,
Till remembrance has no longer
Care to laugh or weep.

6. Today

       by Thomas Carlyle

So here hath been dawning
Another blue day;
Think, wilt thou let it
Slip useless away?
Out of Eternity
This new day is born;
Into Eternity
At night will return.
Behold it aforetime
No eye ever did;
So soon it forever
From all eyes is hid.
Here hath been dawning
Another blue day;
Think, wilt thou let it
Slip useless away?

7. Only A Matter of Time

       by Christopher Morley

Down-slipping Time, sweet, swift, and shallow stream,
Here, like a boulder, lies this afternoon
Across your eager flow. So you shall stay,
Deepened and dammed, to let me breathe and be.
Your troubled fluency, your running gleam
Shall pause, and circle idly, still and clear:
The while I lie and search your glassy pool
Where, gently coiling in their lazy round,
Unseparable minutes drift and swim,
Eddy and rise and brim. And I will see
How many crystal bubbles of slack Time
The mind can hold and cherish in one Now!
Now, for one conscious vacancy of sense,
The stream is gathered in a deepening pond,
Not a mere moving mirror. Through the sharp
Correct reflection of the standing scene
The mind can dip, and cleanse itself with rest,
And see, slow spinning in the lucid gold,
Your liquid motes, imperishable Time.
It cannot be. The runnel slips away:
The clear smooth downward sluice begins again,
More brightly slanting for that trembling pause,
Leaving the sense its conscious vague unease
As when a sonnet flashes on the mind,
Trembles and burns an instant, and is gone.

Beautiful Poems about Time

Time is a hauntingly vast concept that humans have been trying to get a sense of but a few brave ones have been able to come to peace with their might and see the beautiful rhythm of time. Here are beautiful poetries about time you don’t want to miss out on!

1. Misnomer

       by Esther Crone

Nay! tell me not that the year grows old,
When it is made of newborn days;
It is like a book as the leaves unfold,
With the pages fresh always.
It does not decline, decay and die,
As the sages have long, long said,
The change that comes is in you and I,
It is we that grow old instead.

2. To the Virgins, to Make Much of Time

       by Robert Herrick

Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,
Old Time is still a-flying;
And this same flower that smiles today
Tomorrow will be dying.
The glorious lamp of heaven, the sun,
The higher he’s a-getting,
The sooner will his race be run,
And nearer he’s to setting.
That age is best which is the first,
When youth and blood are warmer;
But being spent, the worse, and worst
Times still succeed the former.
Then be not coy, but use your time,
And while ye may, go marry;
For having lost but once your prime,
You may forever tarry.

3. Oh! First Time Came

       by Charles Swain

Oh! first Time came in crimson shoes—
With little roses blue and yellow,
He came with playthings, to amuse,
And I was then a happy fellow:
In dancing soles he next skipped by,
With song and music, sweet and sprightly,
While Love’s eyes o’er Time’s shoulder nigh,
Smiled forth, like stars of heaven, nightly.
Again Time called in boots and spurs,
And rode as if his days were numbered;
The next in slippers, lined with furs,
In elbow-chair he sat and slumbered:
I heard the distant music play,
I thought of hours of love and dancing,
But Time grew slower, day by day,
As if with hearse and plume advancing.
Ah me! but once sweet Childhood comes,
But once bright Youth to love may guide us,
Time, year to year, like lightning sums,
And age and darkness stand beside us:
Ah well! old Time, life’s but a day—
With some few gleams our path adorning;
The night will come, whate’er we say—
It cannot always, Time, be morning.

4. Time

       by Jones Very

There is no moment but whose flight doth bring
Bright clouds and fluttering leaves to deck my bower;
And I within like some sweet bird must sing
To tell the story of the passing hour;
For time has secrets that no bird has sung,
Nor changing leaf with changing season told;
They wait the utterance of some nobler tongue
Like that which spoke in prophet tones of old;
Then day and night, and month and year shall tell
The tale that speaks but faint from bird and bough;
In spirit-songs their praise shall upward swell
Nor longer pass heaven’s gate unheard as now,
But cause e’en angels’ ears to catch the strain,
And send it back to earth in joy again.

5. For Katrina’s Sun Dial

       by Henry Van Dyke

Time is
Too slow for those who wait,
Too swift for those who fear,
Too long for those who grieve,
Too short for those who rejoice,
But for those who love, time is

6. To Time

       by Ruby Archer

Time! Thou art a youth, a youth all power.
I cannot vision thee an aged man.
Thou art the messenger of century
To century, thou Hermes-footed one;
And with thy wand of progress thou dost wake
All worlds to motion and all men to zeal.
No prayer may stay thy pinions beating swift,
Nor make thee falter on thy purposed flight.
The hours thou lettest fall upon our hearts
Are precious flowers that we would cherish fain,
But they must die for brighter blooms to live.
On then, O tireless, great-eyed Time!
Child of Eternity! We follow thee.
Lean o’er us, groping in the dust of earth,
And clear our vision with a dream of heaven.

7. The Time-Brood

       by John B. Tabb

I wonder how the mother-Hour
Can feed each hungry Minute,
And see that every one of them
Gets sixty seconds in it;
And whether, when she goes abroad,
She knows which ones attend her;
For all of them are just alike
In age and size and gender.

8. The Water Mill

       by Sarah Doudney

Oh! listen to the water mill, through all the livelong day,
As the clicking of the wheels wears hour by hour away;
How languidly the autumn wind does stir the withered leaves
As in the fields the reapers sing, while binding up their sheaves!
A solemn proverb strikes my mind, and as a spell is cast,
“The mill will never grind again with water that is past.”
The summer winds revive no more leaves strewn o’er earth and main,
The sickle nevermore will reap the yellow garnered grain;
The rippling stream flows on—aye, tranquil, deep and still,
But never glideth back again to busy water mill;
The solemn proverb speaks to all with meaning deep and vast,
“The mill will never grind again with water that is past.”
Ah! clasp the proverb to thy soul, dear loving heart and true,
For golden years are fleeting by and youth is passing too;
Ah! learn to make the most of life, nor lose one happy day,
For time will ne’er return sweet joys neglected, thrown away;
Nor leave one tender word unsaid, thy kindness sow broadcast—
“The mill will never grind again with water that is past.”
Oh! the wasted hours of life, that have swiftly drifted by,
Alas! the good we might have done, all gone without a sigh;
Love that we might once have saved by a single kindly word,
Thoughts conceived, but ne’er expressed, perishing unpenned, unheard.
Oh! take the lesson to thy soul, forever clasp it fast—
“The mill will never grind again with water that is past.”
Work on while yet the sun doth shine, thou man of strength and will,
The streamlet ne’er doth useless glide by clicking water mill;
Nor wait until to-morrow’s light beams brightly on thy way,
For all that thou canst call thine own lies in the phrase “to-day.”
Possession, power and blooming health must all be lost at last—
“The mill will never grind again with water that is past.”
Oh! love thy God and fellowman, thyself consider last,
For come it will when thou must scan dark errors of the past;
Soon will this fight of life be o’er and earth recede from view,
And heaven in all its glory shine, where all is pure and true.
Ah! then thou’lt see more clearly still the proverb deep and vast,
“The mill will never grind again with water that is past.”

Inspirational Poems about Time

Well luckily, you would not need to search piles and piles of dusty books looking for some inspirational poetries about time as we have gathered them all for you.

1. Even Such is Time

       by Sir Walter Raleigh

Even such is Time, that takes in trust
Our youth, our joys, our all we have,
And pays us but with earth and dust;
Who in the dark and silent grave
When we have wandered all our ways,
Shuts up the story of our days;
But from this earth, this grave, this dust,
My God shall raise me up, I trust.

2. What the Minutes Say

       by Anonymous

We are but minutes—little things!
Each one furnished with sixty wings,
With which we fly on our unseen track,
And not a minute ever comes back.
We are but minutes; use us well,
For how we are used we must one day tell.
Who uses minutes, has hours to use;
Who loses minutes, whole years must lose.

3. Now’s the Time

       by Amos Russel Wells

If a poem you would write,
Now’s the time!
Ne’er was epic yet or sonnet
Captured but by leaping on it;
Pegasus depend upon it,
Knows his time.
If you have a task to do,
Now’s the time!
Now, while you’ve a notion to it;
Now, while zeal will help you do it;
Or in shame you’ll hobble through it,
Out of time.
If you have a word of praise,
Now’s the time!
Should the sky, while flowers are growing
Stint its gracious dew-bestowing
Ne’er would come the rainhow-glowing
Blossom time.
If you have a kiss to give,
Now’s the time!
Lips, like flowers, soon are faded,
Life-blood pallid, checked, and jaded,
If they are not love—o’ershaded,
Kissed in time.
If you have a prayer to pray,
Now’s the time!
Not to every hour are given
Upward look and open heaven;
Oh, be strengthened, gladdened, shriven,
While there’s time!

4. Inalienable

       by Amos Russel Wells

Two things are yours that no man’s wealth can buy:
The air, and time;
And, having these, all fate you may defy,
All summits climb.
While you can draw the fresh and vital breath,
And own the day,
No enemy, not Hate, nor Fear, nor Death,
May bring dismay.
Breathe deeply! Use the minutes as they fly!
Trust God in all!
Thus will you live the life that cannot die,
Nor ever fall.

5. A New Time-Table

       by Anonymous

Sixty seconds make a minute:
How much good can I do in it?
Sixty minutes make an hour,—
All the good that’s in my power.
Twenty hours and four, a day,—
Time for work, and sleep, and play.
Days, three hundred sixty-five
Make a year for me to strive
Eight good things for me to do,
That I wise may grow and true.

6. Each New Little Day Slips Out of My Hand

       by Annette Wynne

Each new little day slips out of my hand,
And then with another new day I stand;
But soon that is gone and folded away—
I wish I might keep forever one day!
I wish that one good day might always stay,
For the good days hurry on so fast,
Only the bad days seem to last;
But soon the worst of days is past;
And now within my room I stand
With a new little day within my hand.

7. They Say That ‘Time Assuages,’ —

       by Emily Dickinson

They say that ‘time assuages,’ —
Time never did assuage;
An actual suffering strengthens,
As sinews do, with age.
Time is a test of trouble,
But not a remedy.
If such it prove, it prove too
There was no malady.

Short Poems about Time

Brevity is the soul of wit and let’s face it, we don’t have much time these days, so much on our plate all the time, right? Well, worry! Instead, enjoy these short time poems in a jiffy!

1. Look Back On Time With Kindly Eyes

       by Emily Dickinson

Look back on time with kindly eyes,
He doubtless did his best;
How softly sinks his trembling sun
In human nature’s west!

2. Lines for a Sun-Dial

       by Alfred Noyes

With shadowy pen I write,
Till time be done,
Good news of some strange light,
Some far off sun.

3. Sweet Hours Have Perished Here

       by Emily Dickinson

Sweet hours have perished here;
This is a mighty room;
Within its precincts hopes have played, —
Now shadows in the tomb.

4. Time

       by Anonymous

“Sixty seconds make a minute,
Sixty minutes make an hour;”
If I were a little linnet,
Hopping in her leafy bower,
Then I should not have to sing it:
“Sixty seconds make a minute.”

5. What Do You Hold in Your Hand, New Year?

       by Annette Wynne

What do you hold in your hand, New Year?
A sheaf of many hours—
Take them, hold them very dear,
Snow and rain and flowers;
You are blest if you but see
Sunshine through the showers.

6. Time

       by William Shakespe

Time is very slow for those who wait;
very fast for those who are scared;
very long for those who lament;
very short for those who celebrate;
but for those who love, time is eternal.

Long Poems about Time

You must have heard that time enjoyed is not time wasted, so why not enjoy your free time reading long time poems? That sounds like a great idea to us!

1. In Time’s Swing

       by Lucy Larcom

Father Time, your footsteps go
Lightly as the falling snow.
In your swing I’m sitting, see!
Push me softly; one, two; three,
Twelve times only. Like a sheet,
Spread the snow beneath my feet.
Singing merrily, let me swing
Out of winter into spring.
Swing me out, and swing me in!
Trees are bare, but birds begin
Twittering to the peeping leaves,
On the bough beneath the eaves.
Wait,—one lilac bud I saw.
Icy hillsides feel the thaw.
April chased off March to-day;
Now I catch a glimpse of May.
Oh, the smell of sprouting grass!
In a blur the violets pass.
Whispering from the wildwood come
Mayflower’s breath and insect’s hum.
Roses carpeting the ground;
Thrushes, orioles, warbling sound:—
Swing me low, and swing me high,
To the warm clouds of July.
Slower now, for at my side
White pond lilies open wide.
Underneath the pine’s tall spire
Cardinal blossoms burn like fire.
They are gone; the golden-rod
Flashes from the dark green sod.
Crickets in the grass I hear;
Asters light the fading year.
Slower still! October weaves
Rainbows of the forest leaves.
Gentians fringed, like eyes of blue,
Glimmer out of sleety dew.
Meadow green I sadly miss:
Winds through withered sedges hiss.
Oh, ‘t is snowing, swing me fast,
While December shivers past!
Frosty-bearded Father Time,
Stop your footfall on the rime!
Hard you push, your hand is rough;
You have swung me long enough.
“Nay, no stopping,” say you? Well,
Some of your best stories tell,
While you swing me—gently, do!—
From the Old Year to the New.

2. The Isle of Long Ago

       by Benjamin Franklin Taylor

Oh, a wonderful stream is the river of Time,
As it runs through the realm of tears,
With a faultless rhythm and a musical rhyme,
And a boundless sweep and a surge sublime,
As it blends with the ocean of Years.
How the winters are drifting, like flakes of snow,
And the summers, like buds between;
And the year in the sheaf—so they come and they go,
On the river’s breast, with its ebb and flow,
As it glides in the shadow and sheen.
There’s a magical isle up the river of Time,
Where the softest of airs are playing;
There’s a cloudless sky and a tropical clime,
And a song as sweet as a vesper chime,
And the Junes with the roses are staying.
And the name of that isle is the Long Ago,
And we bury our treasures there;
There are brows of beauty and bosoms of snow—
There are heaps of dust—but we love them so!—
There are trinkets and tresses of hair;
There are fragments of song that nobody sings,
And a part of an infant’s prayer,
There’s a lute unswept, and a harp without strings;
There are broken vows and pieces of rings,
And the garments that she used to wear.
There are hands that are waved, when the fairy shore
By the mirage is lifted in air;
And we sometimes hear, through the turbulent roar,
Sweet voices we heard in the days gone before,
When the wind down the river is fair.
Oh, remembered for aye be the blessed Isle,
All the day of our life till night—
When the evening comes with its beautiful smile,
And our eyes are closing to slumber awhile,
May that “Greenwood.” of Soul be in sight

3. The Lapse of Time

       by William Cullen Bryant

Lament who will, in fruitless tears.
The speed with which our moments fly
I sigh not over vanished years,
But watch the years that hasten by.
Look, how they come,—a mingled crowd
Of bright and dark, but rapid days;
Beneath them, like a summer cloud,
The wide world changes as I gaze.
What! grieve that time has brought so soon
The sober age of manhood on?
As idly might I weep, at noon,
To see the blush of morning gone.
Could I give up the hopes that glow
In prospect, like Elysian isles;
And let the charming future go,
With all her promises and smiles?
The future!—cruel were the power
Whose doom would tear thee from my heart.
Thou sweetener of the present hour!
We cannot—no—we will not part.
Oh, leave me, still, the rapid flight
That makes the changing seasons gay,
The grateful speed that brings the night,
The swift and glad return of day;
The months that touch, with added grace,
This little prattler at my knee,
In whose arch eye and speaking face
New meaning every hour I see;
The years, that o’er each sister land
Shall lift the country of my birth
And nurse her strength, till she shall stand
The pride and pattern of the earth;
Till younger commonwealths, for aid,
Shall cling about her ample robe,
And from her frown shall shrink afraid
The crowned oppressors of the globe.
True—time will seam and blanch my brow—
Well—I shall sit with aged men,
And my good glass will tell me how
A grizzly beard becomes me then.
And should no foul dishonour lie
Upon my head, when I am gray,
Love yet shall watch my fading eye,
And smooth the path of my decay.
Then haste thee, Time—’tis kindness all
That speeds thy winged feet so fast;
Thy pleasures stay not till they pall,
And all thy pains are quickly past.
Thou fliest and bear’st away our woes,
And as thy shadowy train depart,
The memory of sorrow grows
A lighter burden on the heart.

4. Reflections on the Spending of Time

       by Benjamin Hine

The summer is ended and gone,
How swift have the months flown away!
So swift I scarce have had time to look on,
And the incidents note of each passing day.
Continual employment gives time his wings,
While busy we heed not his flight;
Not so with the idler, he saunters and sings,
And she is too long for him; and the night
Affords him no pleasure, his sleep is unsound,
He does nothing to purchase its sweets,
Like the drone he seldom in employment is found,
Though he feeds on the daintiest of meats.
But what of the idler and what of the drone,
And what of the busiest of men,
The summer, as I first observed, is gone,
And will never return again.
And though others may come in its room,
And in turn recede from the stage,
Yet we, though disease should not be our doom,
Must soon take our departure by age,
What now most concerns us is, to look back and view,
See how we have spent or misspent the hours,—
See whether we have done all the good we could do,
And eschewed all evil that lay in our power.
Can our hearts but respond to the truth of the position,
In peace we may he down to rest,
Yea, happy in time will be our condition,
And in the end we may hope to be blest.

5. The Ruin

       by Hannah Flagg Gould

O! where are the faces that, so bright,
Came in at these hingeless doors,
And the feet of the many, which then, so light
Tripped over these mouldering floors?
Where then at the window used to appear,
In beauty, the human form,
The paneless casement is void and drear,
And open to wind and storm.
The tangled ivy a covering leaves,
As it creeps o’er the sinking walls,
While the owlet hoots, and the spider weaves,
Sole monarchs of these dim halls.
The eye where trembled the spakling tear—
The lip that was curled in mirth—
Where, where are they all, who once were here
To people this crumbling hearth?
The dusky chambers, gloomy and lone,
The breeze swept over and sighed;
While the voice of Time, from his dismal throne,
The ruinous pile, replied,—
“The faces have changed, and been sent away!
The feet have been long laid by!
The form has returned to its kindred clay,
And darkness has wrapped the eye!.
“All, all, who were here, like the hurrying waves
That ride on the restless stream,
Have hastened away; have dropped in their graves;
Have finished life’s changeful dream.
“‘T is bootless now, to the lowly dead,
Who sleep in their beds of earth,
That their feet were light, that their tears were shed,
Or their lips were curled in mirth.
“Their splendor and mourning have both been cast
Far into the dust and shade;
And master and mansion my hand, at last,
In ruins alike hath laid.
“Yet man hath a spark for ever to burn,
A part that I ne’er can kill;
When I bid his form to the earth return,
The spirit defies me, still.
“But I never must know, as the soul withdrew,
For me to dissolve the clay,
If joy or sorrow were hers in view,
Nor whither she winged her way.
“My sceptre is over these earthly things;
I raise, and I shake them down.
And nations, and empires, and chiefs and kings,
I conquer, and keep my crown.
“But I, in my turn, am to pass away;
My reign must at length be o’er,
When One, whose mandate e’en I must obey,
Commands me to be no more!”
I said, “O Time! if thy work be such
With man and his earthly home,
I’ll place my treasures where, not thy touch,
Nor death’s is ever to come!”

6. The Spouting Horn

       by Hannah Flagg Gould

On the dark rock’s steep
I stood, where the deep
By its view, like a mighty spell, bound me;
While the white foam-wreath
Was weaving beneath,
And the breeze from the waters played round me;
Then wave after wave,
To a low, narrow cave,
Came, as rest from a long journey seeking;
But, “out! out! out!”
Was the word, which the Spout
To its guests seemed eternally speaking.
And each billow seen
Rolling up, soft and green,
To the Horn, full of grace in its motion,
Now wild, as with fright,
Would return snowy white,
And rush, roaring, back to the ocean.
In vain did my eye,
By its search, seek to spy
The monarch of this gloomy dwelling,
Who thus, by the force
Of his voice, stern and hoarse,
The deep in her might was repelling.
What power could be there,
Shut from light, heat and air,
I asked, with the dumbness of wonder;
But, “Out!” was the word,
That alone could be heard,
And in sounds like the roaring of thunder!
O Time! Time! ‘t is thus,
Thou art sporting with us;
Our touch at thy shore proudly spurning.
To eternity we,
As the waves to the sea,
Are broken and restless returning!

7. Ode on A Grecian Urn

       by John Keats

Thou still unravish’d bride of quietness,
Thou foster-child of silence and slow time,
Sylvan historian, who canst thus express
A flowery tale more sweetly than our rhyme:
What leaf-fring’d legend haunts about thy shape
Of deities or mortals, or of both,
In Tempe or the dales of Arcady?
What men or gods are these? What maidens loth?
What mad pursuit? What struggle to escape?
What pipes and timbrels? What wild ecstasy?
Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard
Are sweeter; therefore, ye soft pipes, play on;
Not to the sensual ear, but, more endear’d,
Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone:
Fair youth, beneath the trees, thou canst not leave
Thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare;
Bold Lover, never, never canst thou kiss,
Though winning near the goal yet, do not grieve;
She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss,
For ever wilt thou love, and she be fair!
Ah, happy, happy boughs! that cannot shed
Your leaves, nor ever bid the Spring adieu;
And, happy melodist, unwearied,
For ever piping songs for ever new;
More happy love! more happy, happy love!
For ever warm and still to be enjoy’d,
For ever panting, and for ever young;
All breathing human passion far above,
That leaves a heart high-sorrowful and cloy’d,
A burning forehead, and a parching tongue.
Who are these coming to the sacrifice?
To what green altar, O mysterious priest,
Lead’st thou that heifer lowing at the skies,
And all her silken flanks with garlands drest?
What little town by river or sea shore,
Or mountain-built with peaceful citadel,
Is emptied of this folk, this pious morn?
And, little town, thy streets for evermore
Will silent be; and not a soul to tell Why thou art desolate, can e’er return.
O Attic shape! Fair attitude! with brede
Of marble men and maidens overwrought,
With forest branches and the trodden weed;
Thou, silent form, dost tease us out of thought
As doth eternity: Cold Pastoral!
When old age shall this generation waste,
Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woe
Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou say’st,
“Beauty is truth, truth beauty,—that is all
Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.”

Modern Poems about Time

People from different ages have perceived time in a different manner, some lamenting it and some paying a tribute to its power. Here are some modern poems about time that present it in a different light.

1. Reliving Yesterday

       by Donald R Wolff Jr

Tomorrow fades away, Then yesterday
Soon to wake one day, nae long
Lasting are new memories
From a time before, now gone

Upon a pillow alone in thought
The sands shall slip away
Youthful tomorrow has passed along
Outside, you can hear them play

It seems to be such a lonely time
Alone here, everyday
New thoughts I know will come tomorrow
Reliving yesterday

2. You’ll Be Ok

       by Elliot Ghastly

When getting up becomes an achievement
And sleeping – an unreachable dream,
When jokes can’t deliver amusement
And thoughts resemble a scream,

Don’t cater your failures
Your past is their home.
Don’t try to reclaim it
Just pack and move on.

It’s hard
But you’ll be ok
One step at a time, one day,
One second, one yard
Over and over
Day after day
Until you’re ok

3. Infinite Time

       by Ferdouse

I could live for another eighty years or so
if my time slowed down by a half, that’s all there is to it!
Now think of our time, slowed to a hundredth of a second
Yep, you guessed it, we can live for another 8,000 years

What would happen if our time really slowed down?
Will the birds flap their wings slower
Will we never get a speeding ticket
Don’t forget that we have slowed down too
So has the world all around us
It may take three years to eat a donut
They will all be one with us

Time is a construct that can also be speeded up
Compress a lifetime into a few seconds
Watch the sunset rise and fall a thousand times in a millisec
Would we feel that time is going too fast
Maybe in our time zone but not of theirs
For we are also embedded into that time zone
Everything flows in unison, what ticked in a second for us
Is a ticking of the clock that has taken a thousand years
We will all be one with us

Now lets peer far ahead and slow down time to a standstill
Perhaps the time that elapses in heaven, if we should dare
We can expect to live forever, no end to time
Zero time, so time has no meaning and no bearing
Everything and everyone will be one with us

4. Time in My Hands

       by Anonymous

Looking at my hands holding fistfuls of right now,
navigating the Purpose of hidden sweaty palms,
Bruised with the imprints of callous thoughts,
which have Fallen among the grains of forgotten sands.

Seeking for a Haven to rest my Brittle bones,
before the Granite of time begins to Shift,
my Comfort zone to a Small Fold in the universe,
torn in the corner of time and space of a Plastic dream.

Time Saunters forward as I open my fist waving goodbye,
to a life that no one can Contain in a million suns,
although we try to Lust after the fading shadow,
floating off in the Distance of another tomorrow.

5. When I Have More Time

       by Mlewy

when I have more time,
and less on my mind,
when things get slow,
and I’m not running to and fro,
I’ll see that friend,
fix that fence,
say those words,
make recompense,
then suddenly,
another calendar’s done,
another trip ’round the sun,
and I’m still believing the lie,
of when I have more time.

6. Traces of Time

       by Kimberley Smart

Walking through the world, we acquire
words and pictures, by exploring the fire
of life that burns around us each day,
ever-changing, forever on display.

Something new appears, like a fresh bus,
while others age and rust, like moss.
Doors stuck, knobs broken, poles askew,
the world is a strange domino effect that we pursue.

Some things remain the same, like a balloon on a tree,
while others are forgotten, like a rusted knob that will never be free.
The world is filled with variables, a shifting tide,
as we push one thing, others fall in line.

Some things are broken, neglected by time,
while others shine like diamonds, and are never hard to find.
The world is a strange mix of old and new,
a sign filled with stickers, and layers of residue.

In the deprived areas of the city, we see the bone of things,
the rust and oldness that the posh ignore, as they chase their blings.
But for us, it’s the signs of life that we see,
the traces of time that make us feel free.

So let us explore, walk, and discover,
the world around us, like a passionate lover,
embracing the variables, the old, and the new,
as we push forward, and see what life can do.

Poems about Time That Rhyme

This too shall pass is a phrase we hear more frequently to console ourselves when things are tough. Well, it’s going to pass a lot better if you have a rhyme to it! Let’s read some catchy rhyming poems about time.

1. The Time Is Short

       by Eliza and Sarah Wolcott

We take but little note of time,
Nor prize the present day;
Revolving suns, in course sublime,
For man will not delay.
We, from the cradle, wander forth,
And leave our mother’s side
With swelling hopes of little worth
And think the world is wide
But hark, the message from above
Proclaims, “The time is short;”
Know, youth, it is the voice of love,
Why will you longer sport.
O, let this admonition kind,
This message from above,
Sink deep in every heart and mind,—
‘Twas sent to us in love.
When time is done with us below,
Our souls can never die,
But will partake of joy or woe,
Beyond the human eye.
Then let us seize this little space,
The time to gain the prize,
That will be found by men of grace,
The virtuous and wise.
The Son of God, whose blood was spilt
To wash our sins away,
Was a great sacrifice for guilt,
Which we could never pay.
For this, our gratitude we owe
Forever to the Lord;
Then let our lips and lives, e’er show
We love His sacred word.
O for a heart to grow in grace,
To live for Christ alone;
To muse on heaven, that resting place,
To know as we are known.

2. Burglar Time

       by Amos Russel Wells

Time’s a burglar. On his toes
Noiselessly the rascal goes;
Steals my hair, and in its place
Drops long wrinkles on my face;
Steals my vigor, and instead
With experience crams my head;
Steals the trustfulness of youth,
Changing it for bitter truth;
Steals my friends by slow degrees,
Leaving only memories;
Steals my hope, my daring bold,
Leaving nought but yellow gold,
Making these exchanges, he
Deems it is no robbery;
Yes, and truly; for his stealth
Of my dear departed wealth
Yet has left the Joy of Life,
You, my daughter and my wife!

3. Sand of the Desert in an Hour-Glass

       by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

A handful of red sand, from the hot clime
Of Arab deserts brought,
Within this glass becomes the spy of Time,
The minister of Thought.
How many weary centuries has it been
About those deserts blown!
How many strange vicissitudes has seen,
How many histories known!
Perhaps the camels of the Ishmaelite
Trampled and passed it o’er,
When into Egypt from the patriarch’s sight
His favorite son they bore.
Perhaps the feet of Moses, burnt and bare,
Crushed it beneath their tread;
Or Pharaoh’s flashing wheels into the air
Scattered it as they sped;
Or Mary, with the Christ of Nazareth
Held close in her caress,
Whose pilgrimage of hope and love and faith
Illumed the wilderness;
Or anchorites beneath Engaddi’s palms
Pacing the Dead Sea beach,
And singing slow their old Armenian psalms
In half-articulate speech;
Or caravans, that from Bassora’s gate
With westward steps depart;
Or Mecca’s pilgrims, confident of Fate,
And resolute in heart!
These have passed over it, or may have passed!
Now in this crystal tower
Imprisoned by some curious hand at last,
It counts the passing hour,
And as I gaze, these narrow walls expand;
Before my dreamy eye
Stretches the desert with its shifting sand,
Its unimpeded sky.
And borne aloft by the sustaining blast,
This little golden thread
Dilates into a column high and vast,
A form of fear and dread.
And onward, and across the setting sun,
Across the boundless plain,
The column and its broader shadow run,
Till thought pursues in vain.
The vision vanishes! These walls again
Shut out the lurid sun,
Shut out the hot, immeasurable plain;
The half-hour’s sand is run!

4. Reveille

       by A.E Houseman

Wake: the silver dusk returning
Up the beach of darkness brims,
And the ship of sunrise burning
Strands upon the eastern rims.
Wake: the vaulted shadow shatters,
Trampled to the floor it spanned,
And the tent of night in tatters
Straws the sky-pavilioned land.
Up, lad, up, ’tis late for lying:
Hear the drums of morning play;
Hark, the empty highways crying
‘Who’ll beyond the hills away?’
Towns and countries woo together,
Forelands beacon, belfries call;
Never lad that trod on leather
Lived to feast his heart with all.
Up, lad: thews that lie and cumber
Sunlit pallets never thrive;
Morns abed and daylight slumber
Were not meant for man alive.
Clay lies still, but blood’s a rover;
Breath’s a ware that will not keep.
Up, lad: when the journey’s over
There’ll be time enough to sleep.

5. Leisure

       by William Henry Davies

What is this life if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.

No time to stand beneath the boughs
And stare as long as sheep or cows.

No time to see, when woods we pass,
Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass.

No time to see, in broad daylight,
Streams full of stars, like skies at night.

No time to turn at Beauty’s glance,
And watch her feet, how they can dance.

No time to wait till her mouth can
Enrich that smile her eyes began.

A poor life this is if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.

6. Time

       by Tony Avila Sampson

Was Time born with all the sky?
Can Time suffer and also die?
Is Time flat? Or is Time round?
Where is Time? Can Time be found?
Is Time there with each beat of the heart?
Was Time there from the very start?
Must Time go to that being made?
Does Time show by that being fade?
Can Time give and also take?
Must Time be for that to make?
Is Time real? How is Time there?
Can Time be found in a breath of air?
Does the portal of Time drape the eye as it blinks?
Can Time be more stranger than a brain that thinks?
Does Time provide a way dimensions are spaced?
Are all creatures of Time somehow inwardly paced?
Is all manner of Time with all matter that be?
Does Time flow endlessly?
How does the future with Time flow past?
Does Time move slow? Can Time move fast?
Does Time have a speed limit we call ‘now’?
Is something ‘like’ gravity pulling Time? How?
Is Time bound? Or is Time free?
Is Time that what is meant to be?

Poems about Time for Kids

Such an eclectic concept like time is hard to comprehend for kids and you seriously don’t want to freak them out at such a young age so poets have taken on a merry tone in this collection of easy time poetry for children.

1. Time Goes Too Fast

       by Ebony Black

Time is endless but goes too fast.
You long for the future, then yearn for the past.
Summer’s heat quickly turns to frost,
A child grows, their innocence lost.

Time forever slips away,
With the setting sun and each dawn of a day.
The blossoms give way to falling leaves,
Another life taken; their family grieves.

Time can pass quickly, there’s never enough.
You miss when it was easy; now life is too tough.
The long hot days yield to the winter chill,
A new life begins, while another stops still.

Time is something you can never gain,
It only passes and brings new pain.
A warm spring shower turns to freezing snow,
People enter your life, only to leave you and go.

Time reminds you of all that you’ve lost,
You try and regain it, but there’s always a cost.
The warmth of the sun bows down to the cold,
A person once young, now frail and old.

Time is wasted every day,
Spent on moments that fade away.
So think carefully, think wisely about what you will do
With the limited time that is given to you.

2. Time

       by Anonymous

At the corners of your eyes,
Time’s a jockey, racing horse,
The sun and moon across the skies.
Time’s a thief, stealing your beauty,
Leaving you with tears and sighs,
But you waste time trying to catch him,
Time’s a bird and Time just flies.

3. School-Time

       by Anonymous

School time.
Children dear,
Hasten here,
When the lesson-time is near;
Hurry fast,
Don’t be last;
Minutes now are flying fast.

4. Time

       by Joe Massocco

Tick tock…tick tock…
Life is counting down on your internal clock.

Memories that feel as if they occurred yesterday
turn to flashes of moments that seem to fade away.

People you once knew
walk by without a clue.

The times you once shared
exist as if you were never there.

Years fly…friends die…
and you never know when you’ll say your last goodbye.

Oh, how I wish I could turn back time,
spend it with loved ones and cherish what once was mine.

Or to go back even more,
being a kid in a candy store.

How I miss the way I used to feel
on Christmas day when Santa was real.

But back to reality…back to today,
family is scarce and memories continue to fade away.

Tick tock…tick tock…
How I wish I could control this clock.

Poems about Time and Love

Have you ever noticed how the ideas of time and love seem to be interconnected? The moment you kiss, time stops. Your love endures time if the two of you are intended to be together. Let’s see that in these poetries about time and love.

1. Love/Life

       by Anonymous

Love & Life, we chase them everyday
While one day they both will be gone
and all we have left are the illusion of love & time of life
They say love is the most beautiful thing we will experience throughout our life,
and we all will find it in a matter of time.
But Time is not something that slows down for you,
So with that time you wait for the love
that your life has once promised you.
In due time they say you will find love
with the illusion of it all is the life you wasted away
So if Love is only an illusion & Life is only Time.
Then wouldn’t that only make us alive in our own minds

2. Time and Love

       by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Time flies. The swift hours hurry by
And speed us on to untried ways;
New seasons ripen, perish, die,
And yet love stays.
The old, old love—like sweet at first,
At last like bitter wine—
I know not if it blest or curst,
Thy life and mine.
Time flies. In vain our prayers, our tears
We cannot tempt him to delays;
Down to the past he bears the years,
And yet love stays.
Through changing task and varying dream
We hear the same refrain,
As one can hear a plaintive theme
Run through each strain.
Time flies. He steals our pulsing youth,
He robs us of our care-free days;
He takes away our trust and truth,
And yet love stays.
O Time! take love! When love is vain,
When all its best joys die—
When only its regrets remain—
Let love, too, fly.

3. Love After Love

       by Derek Walcott

The time will come
when, with elation
you will greet yourself arriving
at your own door, in your own mirror
and each will smile at the other’s welcome,

and say, sit here. Eat.
You will love again the stranger who was yourself.
Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart
to itself, to the stranger who has loved you

all your life, whom you ignored
for another, who knows you by heart.
Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,

the photographs, the desperate notes,
peel your own image from the mirror.
Sit. Feast on your life.

4. Time and Love

       by Vidyapati

As I guard my honor,
My love in a foreign land
Ravishes beauties
Who belong to others.
Safely he will come,
But he has left me dead.

O traveler, tell him
That my youth wastes away…
If time goes on
Life too will go
And never shall we love again…

Poems about Time and Life

In today’s society, finding a work-life balance can be challenging. Perhaps one of these poetries about time and life can serve as a reminder of how valuable this time is anytime you begin to wonder how to attain this balance.

1. Time Keeps Marching On

       by Patricia a Fleming

Time passes all so quickly,
Moments melting into years.
It’s true, time waits for no one,
And the end is always near.

We live a life so tenuous,
So easily it’s gone.
And no matter what we each endure,
Time keeps marching on.

We take refuge in the moment,
And we cling to every day.
We pretend it’s all forever,
Just to keep the end at bay.

We hearken back to childhood,
When the world was filled with treasures,
And our lives and what the future held
Was beyond what we could measure.

When our family was our everything,
There was still no place like home.
And with our best friends by our sides,
We came into our own.

And though we took our private paths,
We all have kept in mind
That in life our greatest struggle,
Is our battle against time.

Will we get to know what true love is?
Will we have the things we need?
Will we conquer all our greatest fears?
Will we fail or will we succeed?

And then as we grow older,
And the future shrinks away,
Our lives become more memories
And less about today.

We share our wisdom and our hope
With the children in our lives,
And say good-bye to those we loved,
Who once stood by our side.

But there’s a peace in growing old,
As time becomes more dear.
And who we are and why we’re here
Becomes so crystal clear.

And we see time is not the enemy,
But how that time was lived.
And if we took all that we could,
Or gave all that we could give.

For in our final hours,
As our time begins to wane.
The goodness that our soul’s bestowed,
Is all that shall remain.

2. Time

       by Anxhelo Llangozi

Time is slow, time is fast.
It never stops, but it always lasts.
It’s time for bed, it’s time for school.
To waste your time is to be a fool.

If the time is right, the timing will be perfect.
Having the time of your life will always be worth it.
Some spend their time mad,
Some spend their time sad.
For some people time is all they ever had.

Some spend their time and some people save it.
Some love wasting time and some people hate it.
People waste time being in jail
People waste time being mad when they fail.

Some people have lots of time to spare.
Others spend their time not having a care.
It’s time to stop, it’s time to go.
Time can move fast or it can move slow.

You can lose yourself or lose your mind,
But as life goes on you will never lose time.

3. True Wisdom

       by Lydia Howard Sigourney

Why break the limits of permitted thought
To revel in Elysium? thou who bear’st
Still the stern yoke of this unresting life,
Its toils, its hazards, and its fears of change?
Why hang thy frostwork wreath on Fancy’s brow,
When Labour warns thee to thy daily task,
And Faith doth bid thee gird thyself to run
A faithful journey to the gate of Heaven?
Up, ’tis no dreaming-time! awake! awake!
For He who sits on the High Judge’s seat
Doth in his record note each wasted hour,
Each idle word. Take heed thy shrinking soul
Find not their weight too heavy when it stands
At that dread bar from whence is no appeal.
For while we trifle the light sand steals on,
Leaving the hour-glass empty. So thy life
Glideth away. Stamp wisdom on its hours.

4. As Time Passes

       by Jenni-Fiere M. Bivens

As the seconds pass,
We look back
At what our lives have held.

As the minutes pass,
We see what fell through the cracks.
Parts of our lives we withheld.

As the hours pass,
We think of what we learned,
What we have taught,
What we have forgot.

As the days pass,
We wish a lot could be returned.
We wish we would have never fought
You hope they forget me not.

As years pass,
You stand alone.
They have all grown,
Married and gone
Or on their own.

As your life passes,
You stand proud,
Looking how well they raise their own.
You did well.
Live on…

5. Time’s Shadow

       by Mathilde Blind

Thy life, O Man, in this brief moment lies:
Time’s narrow bridge whereon we darkling stand,
With an infinitude on either hand
Receding luminously from our eyes.
Lo, there thy Past’s forsaken Paradise
Subsideth like some visionary strand,
While glimmering faint, the Future’s promised land,
Illusive from the abyss, seems fain to rise.
This hour alone Hope’s broken pledges mar,
And Joy now gleams before, now in our rear,
Like mirage mocking in some waste afar,
Dissolving into air as we draw near.
Beyond our steps the path is sunny-clear,
The shadow lying only where we are.

6. The Loom of Time

       by Anonymous

Man’s life is laid in the loom of time
To a pattern he does not see,
While the weavers work and the shuttles fly
Till the dawn of eternity.

Some shuttles are filled with silver threads
And some with threads of gold,
While often but the darker hues
Are all that they may hold.

But the weaver watches with skillful eye
Each shuttle fly to and fro,
And sees the pattern so deftly wrought
As the loom moves sure and slow.

God surely planned the pattern:
Each thread, the dark and fair,
Is chosen by His master skill
And placed in the web with care.

He only knows its beauty,
And guides the shuttles which hold
The threads so unattractive,
As well as the threads of gold.

Not till each loom is silent,
And the shuttles cease to fly,
Shall God reveal the pattern
And explain the reason why

The dark threads were as needful
In the weaver’s skillful hand
As the threads of gold and silver
For the pattern which He planned.

7. Acquainted With the Night

       by Robert Frost

I have been one acquainted with the night.
I have walked out in rain—and back in rain.
I have outwalked the furthest city light.

I have looked down the saddest city lane.
I have passed by the watchman on his beat
And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain.

I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet
When far away an interrupted cry
Came over houses from another street,

But not to call me back or say goodbye;
And further still at an unearthly height,
One luminary clock against the sky

Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right.
I have been one acquainted with the night.

Poems about Time and Change

If you see it in a different way, time is actually a man-made scale used to measure change. Mind-blowing, isn’t it? Let’s see time and change going hand in hand in these poems.

1. Time Is Everlasting

       by Andres G. Rendon

Has always been there.
It was the beginning,
And it’s going to be the end.
It is forever changing, never the same as it was before.
It was a minute here,
A century there.
It saw the creation of everything,
And it will see the destruction of all.
It is a universal and eternal entity.
We regret when we waste it.
We wish we had more when we run out.
However, when we do have it, we don’t use it wisely.
We waste it, believing that we’ll have it forever.
We don’t realize that it’ll eventually leave us,
Continuing long after we’re gone.
It is neither a friend nor an enemy.

2. Time

       by Rabindranath Tagore

The butterfly counts not months but moments,
and has time enough.
Time is a wealth of change,
but the clock in its parody makes it mere change and no wealth.
Let your life lightly dance on the edges of Time
like dew on the tip of a leaf.

3. Time and Change

       by Padmore Enyonam Agbemabiese

time and fate may separate friends and lovers
but friendship or love that’s true will live forever
true love conquers all odds with patience
and hope keeps them alive forever
Grandma used to tell us all
things of this world will change with time
since all things have their turn to change
the sick has a time to heal
while the poor will come to wealth with time
in this world events change with the years
and the seasons will surely come and go
so everything has its time and day
so wait on time to begin a new day
to change the course of your life
for if you look around you
nothing in the universe is constant,
only true love is forever faithful

Poems about Time and Death

The only way a man can get free of the shackles of time is by embracing death. Quite a profound thought! Let’s see how different poets have described the relationship between time and death.

1. He Took Time to Die

       by Amos Russel Wells

There was an old fellow who never had time
For a fresh morning look at the Volume sublime,
Who never had time for the soft hand of prayer
To smooth out the wrinkles of labor and care
Who could not find time for that service so sweet
At the altar of home where the dear ones all meet,
And never found time with the people of God
To learn the good way that the fathers have trod:
But he found time to die;
Oh, yes!
He found time to die.
This busy old fellow, too busy was he
To linger at breakfast, at dinner, or tea,
For the merry small chatter of children and wife.
But led in his marriage a bachelor life;
Too busy for kisses too busy for play,
No time to be loving no time to be gay;
No time to replenish his vanishing health,
No time to enjoy his swift gathering wealth;
But he found time to die;
Oh, yes!
He found time to die.
This beautiful world had no beauty for him;
its colors were black and its sunshine was dim.
No leisure for woodland, for river, or hill.
No time in his life just to think and be still;
No time for his neighbors, no time for his friends.
No time for those highest immutable ends
Of the life of a man who is not for a day.
But for worse or for better, forever and aye;
But, he found time to die;
Oh, yes!
He found time to die.

2. Time

       by Hilda Conkling

Time is a harp
That plays to you till you fall asleep;
You are always spending it away
Like a music . . .
Suddenly you are left alone
On a trail of wind.
The mountains were asleep
Long ago!
Listen . . . the tune is changing . . .
Do you hear it?
You will sleep too
Before long . . .

3. If I Should Die

       by Emily Dickinson

If I should die,
And you should live,
And time should gurgle on,
And morn should beam,
And noon should burn,
As it has usual done;
If birds should build as early,
And bees as bustling go, —
One might depart at option
From enterprise below!
‘T is sweet to know that stocks will stand
When we with daisies lie,
That commerce will continue,
And trades as briskly fly.
It makes the parting tranquil
And keeps the soul serene,
That gentlemen so sprightly
Conduct the pleasing scene!

4. Time Does Not Bring Relief

       by Edna St. Vincent Milay

Time does not bring relief; you all have lied
Who told me time would ease me of my pain!
I miss him in the weeping of the rain;
I want him at the shrinking of the tide;
The old snows melt from every mountain-side,
And last year’s leaves are smoke in every lane;
But last year’s bitter loving must remain
Heaped on my heart, and my old thoughts abide.
There are a hundred places where I fear
To go,—so with his memory they brim.
And entering with relief some quiet place
Where never fell his foot or shone his face
I say, “There is no memory of him here!”
And so stand stricken, so remembering him.

5. Die With Me

       by Aden Orie

Is such a long time, time to waste, time that’s going no matter what
The facts of life are that people die
But alone, not I
I need your warm breath gracefully blowing on my shoulder
I need another walk to remember
Another time that I can look back on
A fulfilled dream just upon
I can have them with you
And I want you to
With me

Final Thoughts

Time is not a special literary category but poets have been trying to give shape to this fluid concept through their poetries.

The concept of time is a fundamental aspect of poetry, and it is often used to explore various themes and ideas.

Poets use time in a variety of ways to create meaning and evoke emotions in their readers as seen in these poems for time.

One way that poets use time is by using it as a metaphor for the passage of life. This concept is often used in time poems to explore themes of mortality, aging, and the impermanence of life.

Which poem appealed to you the most?

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