Poems by Thomas Wentworth Higginson
"Such Stuff As Dreams Are Made Of"
... Nor leave me vacant still, with strivings vain, ...
To Duty
... Searchest with probes, though the death-touch be given ...
Ode To A Butterfly
... Living his unspoiled days mid flowers and flocks and herds! ...
The Snowing of the Pines
... the jay Takes through their golden mist his radiant flight ...
Since Cleopatra Died
... No clocks slow ticking marks their deathless strain ...
Decoration
... MID the flower-wreathed tombs I stand ...
The Baby Sorceress
... The Power that spins the thread shall blend the hue ...
