Gender:
Male
After Kipling
HE sits in a sea-green grotto with a bucket of lurid paint,
And draws the Thing as it isn’t for the God of things as they ain’t.
Robert Bridges
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In this May-month, by grace
of heaven, things shoot apace.
The waiting multitude
of fair boughs in the wood,—
How few days have arrayed
their beauty in green shade!What have I seen or heard?
it was the yellow bird
Sang in... -
A Poppy grows upon the shore
Bursts her twin cup in summer late:
Her leaves are glaucous green and hoar,
Her petals yellow, delicate.Oft to her cousins turns her thought,
In wonder if they care that she
Is fed with spray for dew, and... -
To a Friend Dying
THEY tell you that Death ’s at the turn of the road,
That under the shade of a cypress you ’ll find him,
And, struggling on wearily, lashed by the goad
Of pain, you will enter the black mist behind him.I can walk with you up to the...
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So sweet love seemed that April morn,
When first we kissed beside the thorn,
So strangely sweet, it was not strange
We thought that love could never change.But I can tell—let truth be told—
That love will change in growing old;
Though day by day... -
Young to the end through sympathy with youth,
Gray man of learning,—champion of truth!
Direct in rugged speech, alert in mind,
He felt his kinship with all humankind,
And never feared to trace development
Of high from low,—assured and full content
... -
They tell you that Death ’s at the turn of the road,
That under the shade of a cypress you ’ll find him,
And, struggling on wearily, lashed by the goad
Of pain, you will enter the black mist behind him.I can walk with you up to the ridge of the hill,...
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I have loved flowers that fade,
Within whose magic tents
Rich hues have marriage made
With sweet unmemoried scents:
A honeymoon delight—
A joy of love at sight,
That ages in an hour—
My song be like a flower!I have loved airs that die
Before...