Poetry Books

Part One Home Our life was an accident, the flames were conjured by an indifferent couple. So much time has passed, their union dissipated with the dumb carcass of our home. This house has been all of our housesÐ our parents colluded with emptiness to conceal this fact. We live from cairn to cairn, burning refugee hearts, each mistake receding in the rear-view mirror, each incipient disaster breaking... more...

DEDICATION TO MY MOTHER Love that holds life and death in fee,Deep as the clear unsounded seaAnd sweet as life or death can be,Lays here my hope, my heart, and meBefore you, silent, in a song.Since the old wild tale, made new, found grace,When half sung through, before your face,It needs must live a springtide space,While April suns grow strong. March 24, 1896. In hawthorn-time the heart grows... more...

'T is like stirring living embers when, at eighty, one remembersAll the achings and the quakings of "the times that tried men's souls;"When I talk of Whig and Tory, when I tell the Rebel story,To you the words are ashes, but to me they're burning coals. I had heard the muskets' rattle of the April running battle;Lord Percy's hunted soldiers, I can see their red coats... more...

MY DOG TRAY.Twice every week a poor, thin man,Holding his little daughter’s hand,Walked feebly to a hospital,Close by the busy London Strand.He hoped the clever doctors thereIn time would make him strong and well,That he might go to work again,And live to care for little Nell.Beside wee Nell, her faithful friend,Good old dog Tray was always seen,Never a day apart the pairSince Nelly’s babyhood had... more...

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The Path to HomeThere's the mother at the doorway, and the children at the gate,And the little parlor windows with the curtains white and straight.There are shaggy asters blooming in the bed that lines the fence,And the simplest of the blossoms seems of mighty consequence.Oh, there isn't any mansion underneath God's starry domeThat can rest a weary pilgrim like the little place called... more...

I—THE VAGABOND(To an air of Schubert) Give to me the life I love,   Let the lave go by me,Give the jolly heaven above   And the byway nigh me.Bed in the bush with stars to see,   Bread I dip in the river—There’s the life for a man like me,   There’s the life for ever. Let the blow fall soon or late,   Let what will be o’er me;Give the face of earth around   And the road before... more...

PRELUDE The mighty poets from their flowing storeDispense like casual alms the careless ore;Through throngs of men their lonely way they go,Let fall their costly thoughts, nor seem to know.—Not mine the rich and showering hand, that strewsThe facile largess of a stintless Muse.A fitful presence, seldom tarrying long,Capriciously she touches me to song—Then leaves me to lament her flight in vain,And... more...

The Bride The little white bride is left aloneWith him, her lord; the guests have gone;The festal hall is dim.No jesting now, nor answering mirth.The hush of sleep falls on the earthAnd leaves her here with him. Why should there be, O little white bride,When the world has left you by his side,A tear to brim your eyes?Some old love-face that comes again,Some old love-moment sweet with painOf passionate... more...

OILING. (A Song In and Out of Season.) Excuse me, Sweetheart, if I smear,With wisdom learnt from ancient teachers,Now winter time once more is here,This grease upon your lengthy features!Behaving thus, your loyal friendNo whit encourages deception:Believe me, Fairest, in the endThis oil will better your complexion.Fairest, believe! Did you imagine in the bagTo sleep the sleep of Rip Van Winkle,Removed... more...