Who shall sing a simple ditty all about the Willow,
Dainty-fine and delicate as any bending spray
That dandles high the happy bird that flutters there to trill a
Tremulously tender song of greeting to the May.

Microcosm

© Madison Julius Cawein

The memory of what we've lost
Is with us more than what we've won;
Perhaps because we count the cost
By what we could, yet have not done.

Sonnet XIII: And Wilt Thou Have Me

© Elizabeth Barrett Browning

And wilt thou have me fashion into speech

The love I bear thee, finding words enough,

The Hour

© Wilcox Ella Wheeler

This is the world's stupendous hour-
The supreme moment for the race
To see the emptiness of power,
The worthlessness of wealth and place,
To see the purpose and the plan
Conceived by God for growing man.

To Constantia, Singing

© Percy Bysshe Shelley

I.
Thus to be lost and thus to sink and die,
Perchance were death indeed!Constantia, turn!
In thy dark eyes a power like light doth lie,

Look Unto Me, And Be Ye Saved

© John Newton

As the serpent raised by Moses

Healed the burning serpent's bite;

In The Harbour: Auf Wiedersehen

Until we meet again! That is the meaning
Of the familiar words, that men repeat
At parting in the street.
Ah yes, till then! but when death intervening
Rends us asunder, with what ceaseless pain
We wait for the Again!

Une Charogne (The Carcass)

Rappelez-vous l'objet que nous vîmes, mon âme,
Ce beau matin d'été si doux:
Au détour d'un sentier une charogne infâme
Sur un lit semé de cailloux,

A Poet's Voice XV

Part One

Laughter And Tears IX

As the Sun withdrew his rays from the garden, and the moon threw cushioned beams upon the flowers, I sat under the trees pondering upon the phenomena of the atmosphere, looking through the branches at the strewn stars which glittered like chips of silver upon a blue carpet; and I could hear from a distance the agitated murmur of the rivulet singing its way briskly into the valley.

When the birds took shelter among the boughs, and the flowers folded their petals, and tremendous silence descended, I heard a rustle of feet though the grass. I took heed and saw a young couple approaching my arbor. The say under a tree where I could see them without being seen.

Estuary

© Gwen Harwood

To Rex Hobcroft

Wind crosshatches shallow water.

Strange to know nothing, never to be sure
Of what is true or right or real,
But forced to qualify or so I feel,
Or Well, it does seem so:
Someone must know.