Prisoners
Though the road turn at last
to death’s ordinary door,
and we knock there, ready . . .
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The Properly Scholarly Attitude
The poet pursues his beautiful theme;
The preacher his golden beatitude;
And I run after a vanishing dream—
. . .
Psalm
In the small beauty of the forest
The wild deer bedding down—
That they are there! . . .
The Pull Toy
You squeezed its leash in your fist,
It followed where you led:
Tick, tock, tick, tock, . . .
The Pulley
When God at first made man,
Having a glass of blessings standing by,
“Let us,” said he, “pour on him all we can.
. . .