The Soul
An heritage of hopes and fears
And dreams and memory,
And vices of ten thousand years
God gives to thee.
A house of clay, the home of Fate,
Haunted of Love and Sin,
Where Death stands knocking at the gate
To let him in.
More poems by Madison Cawein
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Comradery
With eyes hand-arched he looks into
The morning’s face, then turns away
With schoolboy feet, all wet with dew, … -
Death
Through some strange sense of sight or touch
I find what all have found before,
The presence I have feared so much, … -
Dirge
What shall her silence keep
Under the sun?
Here, where the willows weep … -
Flight
The song-birds? are they flown away?
The song-birds of the summer-time,
That sang their souls into the day, …