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To Charles Lloyd: An Unexpected Visitor
© Charles Lamb
Alone, obscure, without a friend,
A cheerless, solitary thing,
Why seeks, my Lloyd, the stranger out?
What offering can the stranger bring
Colder
© Erica Jong
He was six foot four, and forty-six
and even colder than he thought he was
James Thurber, The Thirteen Clocks
Autumn Perspective
© Erica Jong
Now we plan, postponing, pushing our lives forward
into the future--as if, when the room
contains us and all our treasured junk
we will have filled whatever gap it is
that makes us wander, discontented
from ourselves.
Costanza
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
She knelt in prayer. A stream of sunset fell
Thro' the stain'd window of her lonely cell,
And with its rich, deep, melancholy glow
Flushing her cheek and pale Madonna brow,
Lullaby; By The Sea
© Eugene Field
Fair is the castle up on the hill-
Hushaby, sweet my own!
The night is fair, and the waves are still,
And the wind is singing to you and to me
In this lowly home beside the sea-
Hushaby, sweet my own!
The Christ upon the Hill
© William Cosmo Monkhouse
A couple old sat o'er the fire,
And they were bent and gray;
They burned the charcoal for their Lord,
Who lived long leagues away.
Fairy Tale (2)
© Katherine Mansfield
Now folds the Tree of Day its perfect flowers,
And every bloom becomes a bud again,
Shut and sealed up against the golden showers
Of bees that hover in the velvet hours….
Beachy Head
© Charlotte Turner Smith
ON thy stupendous summit, rock sublime !
That o'er the channel rear'd, half way at sea
I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair
© Pablo Neruda
Don't go far off, not even for a day
Don't go far off, not even for a day,
Because I don't know how to say it - a day is long
And I will be waiting for you, as in
An empty station when the trains are
Parked off somewhere else, asleep.
Don't Go Far Off, Not Even For A Day
© Pablo Neruda
Don't go far off, not even for a day, because --
because -- I don't know how to say it: a day is long
and I will be waiting for you, as in an empty station
when the trains are parked off somewhere else, asleep.
The Seeking Of Content
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
Sweet Content, at the rich man's gate,
Called, "Wilt thou let me in?"
Memorials Of A Tour In Scotland, 1803
© William Wordsworth
Now we are tired of boisterous joy,
Have romped enough, my little Boy!
Jane hangs her head upon my breast,
And you shall bring your stool and rest;
This corner is your own.
The Cab Lamps
© Henry Lawson
THE CRESCENT MOON and clock tower are fair above the wall
Across the smothered lanes of Loo, the stifled vice and all,
And in the shadow yonderlike cats that wait for scraps
The crowding cabs seem waitingfor you and me, perhaps.
The Missionary - Canto Third
© William Lisle Bowles
Come,--for the sun yet hangs above the bay,--
And whilst our time may brook a brief delay
The Princess (prologue)
© Alfred Tennyson
Sir Walter Vivian all a summer's day
Gave his broad lawns until the set of sun
The Camel-Rider
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
There is no thing in all the world but love,
No jubilant thing of sun or shade worth one sad tear.
Why dost thou ask my lips to fashion songs
Other than this, my song of love to thee?
Letter Home
© Natasha Trethewey
--New Orleans, November 1910Four weeks have passed since I left, and still
I must write to you of no work. I've worn down
the soles and walked through the tightness
of my new shoes calling upon the merchants,
The Snow-Messengers
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
THE pine-trees lift their dark bewildered eyes--
Or so I deem--up to the clouded skies;
No breeze, no faintest breeze, is heard to blow:
In wizard silence falls the windless snow.
