Harrison Smith Morris
Poems (6)
- A Pine-Tree BuoyWhere all the winds were tranquil,
- DestinyOur many years are made of clay and cloud,
- Fickle HopeHope, is this thy hand
- Mohammed and SeidSwept by the hot wind, stark, untrackable,
- The Lonely-BirdO dappled throat of white! Shy, hidden bird!
- Walt WhitmanHe was in love with Truth and knew her near—