Poetry
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Ten Thousand Years From Now
Brother, that breathe the August air Ten thousand years from now, And smell – if still your orchards bear Tart apples on the bough -…
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To See The Land I Love
Now as the train bears west, Its rhythm rocks the earth, And from my Pullman berth I stare into the night While others take their…
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The Woods are Lovely, Dark, and Deep
Whose woods these are I think I know. His house is in the village, though; He will not see me stopping here To watch his…
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There Exists No Loom
Upon this age, that never speaks its mind, This furtive age, this age endowed with power To wake the moon with footsteps, fit an oar…
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Why Should Not Old Men Be Mad
Why should not old men be mad? Some have known a likely lad That had a sound fly fisher’s wrist Turn to a drunken journalist;…
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They Do Not Sweat or Whine or Weep
I think I could turn and live with animals,They are so placid and self-contain’d, I stand and look at them long and long. They do…
Nehaveigur 