Sandy Macleod (Alice Cary Poems)
When I think of the weary nights and daysOf poor, hard-working folk, alwaysI see, with his head on his bosom ...
When I think of the weary nights and daysOf poor, hard-working folk, alwaysI see, with his head on his bosom ...
I've' felt some little thrills of pride, I've inwardly rejoicedAlong the pleasant lanes of life to hear my praises voiced;No ...
Not in this chamber only at my birth— When the long hours of that mysterious night Were over, ...
He fumbles at your spirit As players at the keysBefore they drop full music on; He stuns you by degrees,Prepares ...
Give little Anguish -- Lives will fret -- Give Avalanches -- And they'll slant -- Straighten -- look cautious for ...
He fumbles at your Soul As Players at the Keys Before they drop full Music on -- He stuns you ...
This morning, coffee in hand, standing at the kitchen window thinking of things that need to be done I contemplated ...
Before the Roman came to Rye or out to Severn strode, The rolling English drunkard made the rolling English road. ...
The only thing I miss about Los Angeles is the Hollywood Freeway at midnight, windows down and radio blaring bearing ...
In silent night when rest I took, For sorrow near I did not look, I waken'd was with thund'ring noise ...
Acquaintance; companion; One dear brilliant woman; The best-endowed, the elect, All by their youth undone, All, all, by that inhuman ...
CROSS the hands over the breast here--so. Straighten the legs a little more--so. And call for the wagon to come ...
Don't box down to the little box Which supposedly contains everything Your star and all other stars Empty yourself In ...
There still are kindly things for me to know, Who am afraid to dream, afraid to feel- This little chair ...
My soul looked down from a vague height with Death, As unremembering how I rose or why, And saw a ...
BOWED by the weight of centuries he leans Upon his hoe and gazes on the ground, The emptiness of ages ...
Being a father Is quite a bother. You are as free as air With time to spare, You're a fiscal ...
Let's straighten this out, my little man, And reach an agreement if we can. I entered your door as an ...
Not in this chamber only at my birth- When the long hours of that mysterious night Were over, and the ...
The day comes slowly in the railyard behind the ice factory. It broods on one cinder after another until each ...
Written for the "Martha Washington Court Journal". Down cold snow-stretches of our bitter time, When windy shams and the rain-mocking ...
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