John Henry Boner

  • Poe’s Cottage at Fordham

    Here lived the soul enchanted
      By melody of song;
    Here dwelt the spirit haunted
      By a demoniac throng;
    Here sang the lips elated;
    Here grief and death were sated;
    Here loved and here unmated
      Was he, so frail, so strong.

    Here...

  • The Light’ood Fire

    When wintry days are dark and drear
      And all the forest ways grow still,
    When gray snow-laden clouds appear
      Along the bleak horizon hill,
    When cattle all are snugly penned
      And sheep go huddling close together,
    When steady streams of smoke...

  • The Light'ood Fire

    When wintry days are dark and drear
      And all the forest ways grow still,
    When gray snow-laden clouds appear
      Along the bleak horizon hill,
    When cattle all are snugly penned
      And sheep go huddling close together,
    When steady streams of smoke...

  • We Walked among the Whispering Pines

    It was a still autumnal day—
      So sadly still and strangely bright—
    The hectic glow of quick decay
      Tinged everything with lovely light.
    It warmly touched the fragrant air
      And fields of corn and crumbling vines
    Along the golden Yadkin, where...

  • Remembrance

    I think that we retain of our dead friends
    And absent ones no general portraiture;
    That perfect memory does not long endure,
    But fades and fades until our own life ends.
    Unconsciously, forgetfulness attends
    That grief for which there is no other cure,...

  • Poe's Cottage at Fordham

    Here lived the soul enchanted
      By melody of song;
    Here dwelt the spirit haunted
      By a demoniac throng;
    Here sang the lips elated;
    Here grief and death were sated;
    Here loved and here unmated
      Was he, so frail, so strong.

    Here...