A Calendar of Sonnets: November
This is the treacherous month when autumn days With summer’s voice come bearing summer’s gifts. Beguiled, the pale down-trodden aster lifts Her head and blooms again. The soft, warm haze Makes moist once more
The Poet's Forge
He lies on his back, the idling smith, A lazy, dreaming fellow is he; The sky is blue, or the sky is gray, He lies on his back the livelong day, Not a tool
My Bees: An Allegory
“O bees, sweet bees!” I said, “that nearest field Is shining white with fragrant immortelles. Fly swiftly there and drain those honey wells.” Then, spicy pines the sunny hive to shield, I set, and
New Year's Morning
Only a night from old to new! Only a night, and so much wrought! The Old Year’s heart all weary grew, But said: The New Year rest has brought.” The Old Year’s hopes its
God's Light-Houses
1 When night falls on the earth, the sea 2 From east to west lies twinkling bright 3 With shining beams from beacons high 4 Which flash afar a friendly light. 5 The sailor’s
The Victory of Patience
Armed of the gods! Divinest conqueror! What soundless hosts are thine! Nor pomp, nor state, Nor token, to betray where thou dost wait. All Nature stands, for thee, ambassador; Her forces all thy serfs,
Songs of Battle
Old as the world no other things so old; Nay, older than the world, else, how had sprung Such lusty strength in them when earth was young? Stand valor and its passion hot and
Poppies on the Wheat
Along Ancona’s hills the shimmering heat, A tropic tide of air with ebb and flow Bathes all the fields of wheat until they glow Like flashing seas of green, which toss and beat Around
My Tenants
I never had a title-deed To my estate. But little heed Eyes give to me, when I walk by My fields, to see who occupy. Some clumsy men who lease and hire And cut