The Whispers Of Time.

What does time whisper, youth gay and light,
While thinning thy locks, silken and bright,
While paling thy soft cheek's roseate dye,
Dimming the light of thy flashing eye,
Stealing thy bloom and freshness away -
Is he not hinting at death - decay?

Man, in the wane of thy stately prime,
Hear'st thou the silent warnings of Time?
Look at thy brow ploughed by anxious care,
The silver hue of thy once dark hair; -
What boot thine honors, thy treasures bright,
When Time tells of coming gloom and night?

Sad age, dost thou note thy strength nigh, spent,
How slow thy footstep - thy form how bent?
Yet on looking back how short doth seem
The checkered coarse of thy life's brief dream.
Time, daily weakening each link and tie,
Doth whisper how soon thou art to die.

O! what a weary world were ours
With that thought to cloud our brightest hours,
Did we not know that beyond the skies
A land of beauty and promise ties,
Where peaceful and blessed we will love - adore -
When Time itself shall be no more!

Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon

Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon was a Canadian poet and novelist known for her contributions to Canadian literature in the 19th century. She wrote several novels and numerous poems, often focusing on themes of love, identity, and cultural conflicts. Leprohon's work is notable for its exploration of Canadian identity and bilingual heritage as she wrote in both English and French.

Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon

A Welcome To The Month Of Mary.

Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon, Simple Poetry

The River Saguenay.

Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon, Simple Poetry

A Girl's Day Dream And Its Fulfilment.

Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon, Simple Poetry

The Sunset Thoughts Of A Dying Girl.

Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon, Simple Poetry

English

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Explore a curated selection of verses that share themes, styles, and emotional resonance with the poem you've just read.

The Sunset Thoughts Of A Dying Girl.

Friends! do you see in yon sunset sky,
    That cloud of crimson bright?
Soon will its gorgeous colors die
    In coming dim twilight;
E'en now it fadeth ray by ray -
Like it I too shall pass away!

Look on yon fragile summer flower
    Yielding its sweet perfume;
Soon shall it have lived out its hour,
    Its beauty and its bloom:
Trampled, 'twill perish in the shade -
Alas! as quickly shall I fade.

Mark you yon planet gleaming clear
    With steadfast, gentle light,
See, heavy dark clouds hovering near,
    Have veiled its radiance bright -
As you vainly search that gloomy spot,
You'll look for me and find me not!

Turn now to yonder sparkling stream,
    Where silver ripples play;
Dancing within the moon's pale beam -

Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon

The Clouds That Promise A Glorious Morrow.

The clouds that promise a glorious morrow
    Are fading slowly, one by one;
The earth no more bright rays may borrow
    From her loved Lord, the golden sun;
Gray evening shadows are softly creeping,
    With noiseless steps, o'er vale and hill;
The birds and flowers are calmly sleeping;
    And all around is fair and still.

Once loved I dearly, at this sweet hour,
    With loitering steps to careless stray,
To idly gather an opening flower,
    And often pause upon my way, -
Gazing around me with joyous feeling,
    From sunny earth to azure sky,
Or bending over the streamlet, stealing
    'Mid banks of flowers and verdure by.

You wond'ring ask me why sit I lonely
    Within my quiet, curtain'd room,
So idly seeking and clinging only

Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon

The Lapse Of Time.

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 cheerful 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,...

William Cullen Bryant

Time's Changes In A Household.

They grew together side by side,
They filled one house with glee
Their graves are severed far and wide -
By mountain stream and tree.

Mrs. Hemans


They were as fair and bright a band as ever filled with pride
Parental hearts whose task it was children beloved to guide;
And every care that love upon its idols bright may shower
Was lavished with impartial hand upon each fair young flower.

Theirs was the father's merry hour sharing their childish bliss,
The mother's soft breathed benison and tender, nightly kiss;
While strangers who by chance might see their joyous graceful play,
To breathe some word of fondness kind would pause upon their way.

But years rolled on, and in their course Time many changes brought,
And sorrow in that household gay ...

Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon

Time, Beauty's Friend

"Is she still beautiful?" I asked of one
    Who of the unforgotten faces told
That for long years I had not looked upon -
    "Beautiful still - but she is growing old";
And for a space I sorrowed, thinking on
    That face of April gold.

Then up the summer night the moon arose,
    Glassing her sacred beauty in the sea,
That ever at her feet in silver flows;
    And with her rising came a thought to me -
How ever old and ever young she grows,
    And still more lovely she.

Thereat I smiled, thinking on lovely things
    That dateless and immortal beauty wear,
Whereof the song immortal tireless sings,
    And Time but touches to make lovelier;
On Beauty sempiternal as the Spring's -
    So old are all things fair.

Then for that fac...

Richard Le Gallienne

A Worldly Death-Bed.

Hush! speak in accents soft and low,
    And treat with careful stealth
Thro' that rich curtained room which tells
    Of luxury and wealth;
Men of high science and of skill
    Stand there with saddened brow,
Exchanging some low whispered words -
    What can their art do now?

Follow their gaze to yonder couch
    Where moans in fitful pain
The mistress of this splendid home,
    With aching heart and brain.
The fever burning in her veins
    Tinges with carmine bright
That sunken cheek - alas! she needs
    No borrowed bloom to-night.

The masses of her raven hair
    Fall down on either side
In tangled richness - it has been
    Through life her care and pride;
And those small perfect hands on which
    Her gaze complacen...

Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon