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“Such is the cross upon my breast”
The Cross of Snow Henry Wadsworth Longfellow In the long, sleepless watches of the night, A gentle face–the face of one long dead– Looks at me from the wall, where round its head The night-lamp casts a...
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“…a fire was in my head…”
The Song of Wandering Angus by William Butler Yeats I went out to the hazel wood, Because a fire was in my head, And cut and peeled a hazel wand, And hooked a berry to a thread; And when white moths...
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“…be not coy…”
To the Virgins, to Make Much of Time by Robert Herrick Gather ye rosebuds while ye may, Old Time is still a-flying: And this same flower that smiles to-day To-morrow will be dying. The glorious lamp of...
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“…and looks the whole world in the face…”
The Village Blacksmith by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Under a spreading chestnut-tree The village smithy stands; The smith, a mighty man is he, With large and sinewy hands; And the muscles of his...
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The Boy and the Bubble
This poem issues from reflections on Ecclesiastes, that incomparable book. Life is a locked door, And there is no key. I cannot make the crooked corridors straighten, I am in them, wandering who knows...
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