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A dozen poems
For todayA version friendly to printer and palmtop
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Black Swans, by Andrew Barton Paterson (`Banjo')
As I lie at rest on a patch of clover
In the Western Park when the day is done,
I watch as the wild black swans fly over
With their phalanx turned to the sinking sun;
And I hear the clang of their leader crying
Shattered Memories, by T.J. Daniels
From a long forgotten past
the shadows on the wall
are lost in the darkness
as memories dance on the ceiling.
Memories from someone elses past
Immortality, by John Liddell Kelly
At twenty-five I cast my horoscope,
And saw a future with all good things rife --
A firm assurance of eternal life
In worlds beyond, and in this world the hope
Of deathless fame. But now my sun doth slope
A Hymn, by James Shirley
O FLY, my Soul! What hangs upon
Thy drooping wings,
And weighs them down
With love of gaudy mortal things?
The Sun is now i' the east: each shade
God Lyaeus, by John Fletcher
GOD Lyaeus, ever young,
Ever honour'd, ever sung,
Stain'd with blood of lusty grapes,
In a thousand lusty shapes
Dance upon the mazer's brim,
I shall not care, by Sara Teasdale
When I am dead and over me bright April
Shakes out her rain-drenched hair,
Though you should lean above me broken-hearted,
I shall not care.
I shall have peace as leafy trees are peaceful,
The Path that leads to Nowhere, by Corinne Roosevelt Robinson
There's a path that leads to Nowhere
In a meadow that I know,
Where an inland island rises
And the stream is still and slow;
There it wanders under willows
The Most-Sacred Mountain, by Eunice Tietjens
Space, and the twelve clean winds of heaven,
And this sharp exultation, like a cry, after the slow six thousand
steps of climbing!
This is Tai Shan, the beautiful, the most holy.
Below my feet the foot-hills nestle, brown with flecks of green;
Autumn, by Jean Start Untermeyer
(For my Mother)
How memory cuts away the years,
And how clean the picture comes
Of autumn days, brisk and busy;
Charged with keen sunshine.
A Litany, by Phineas Fletcher
DROP, drop, slow tears,
And bathe those beauteous feet
Which brought from Heaven
The news and Prince of Peace:
Cease not, wet eyes,
A Summer Day, by Alexander Hume
O PERFECT Light, which shaid away
The darkness from the light,
And set a ruler o'er the day,
Another o'er the night--
Thy glory, when the day forth flies,
Left Behind, by Daniel Driscoll
After the War, after everyone fled to the stars
We were left behind.
We were known as the Lost Ones.
As the sky rained down and the oceans boiled off,
We continued warring
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