The Sunset light is on the sail, The water all aglow, And on the billows up and down The boat rocks to and fro; The birds float upward to the sky— Oh, how I long for wings to fly! The boat has wings, the birds have wings, But none remain for me Save wings of kind and loving thought And wings of memory. On these I come, and still repeat— I love, I love, I love you, Sweet!
Catskill Mountain House WAVE after wave of greenness rolling down From mountain top to base, a whispering sea Of affluent leaves through which the viewless breeze Murmurs mysteriously. And towering up amid the lesser throng, A giant oak, so desolately grand, Stretches its gray...
Why came the rose? Because the sun, in shining, Found in the mold some atoms rare and fine: And, stooping, drew and warmed them into growing,— Dust, with the spirit’s mystic countersign. What made the perfume? All his wondrous kisses Fell on the sweet red mouth, till, lost to sight, The...
The Sunset light is on the sail, The water all aglow, And on the billows up and down The boat rocks to and fro; The birds float upward to the sky— Oh, how I long for wings to fly! The boat has wings, the birds have wings, But none remain for me Save wings of kind and loving thought And...
