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Full Online Book HomePoemsAn April Birthday--at Sea
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An April Birthday--at Sea Post by :morna Category :Poems Author :James Russell Lowell Date :November 2010 Read :674

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An April Birthday--at Sea

On this wild waste, where never blossom came,
Save the white wind-flower to the billow's cap,
Or those pale disks of momentary flame,
Loose petals dropped from Dian's careless lap,
What far fetched influence all my fancy fills,
With singing birds and dancing daffodils?

Why, 'tis her day whom jocund April brought,
And who brings April with her in her eyes;
It is her vision lights my lonely thought,
Even as a rose that opes its hushed surprise
In sick men's chambers, with its glowing breath
Plants Summer at the glacier edge of Death.

Gray sky, sea gray as mossy stones on graves;--
Anon comes April in her jollity;
And dancing down the bleak vales 'tween the waves,
Makes them green glades for all her flowers and me.
The gulls turn thrushes, charmed are sea and sky
By magic of my thought, and know not why.

Ah, but I know, for never April's shine,
Nor passion gust of rain, nor all her flowers
Scattered in haste, were seen so sudden fine
As she in various mood, on whom the powers
Of happiest stars in fair conjunction smiled
To bless the birth, of April's darling child.

(The end)
James Russell Lowell's poem: April Birthday--at Sea

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Love And Thought Love And Thought

Love And Thought
What hath Love with Thought to do?Still at variance are the two.Love is sudden, Love is rash,Love is like the levin flash,Comes as swift, as swiftly goes,And his mark as surely knows.Thought is lumpish, Thought is slow,Weighing long 'tween yes and no;When dear Love is dead and gone,Thought comes creeping in anon,And, in his deserted nest,Sits to hold the crowner's quest.Since we love, what need to think?Happiness stands on a brinkWhence too easy 'tis to fallWhither's no return at all;Have a care, half-hearted lover,Thought would only push her over!(The end)James Russell Lowell's poem: Love And Thought

St. Michael The Weigher St. Michael The Weigher

St. Michael The Weigher
Stood the tall Archangel weighingAll man's dreaming, doing, saying,All the failure and the pain,All the triumph and the gain,In the unimagined years,Full of hopes, more full of tears,Since old Adam's hopeless eyesBackward searched for Paradise,And, instead, the flame-blade sawOf inexorable Law.Waking, I beheld him there,With his fire-gold, flickering hair,In his blinding armor stand,And the scales were in his hand:Mighty were they, and full wellThey could poise both heaven and hell.'Angel,' asked I humbly then,'Weighest thou the souls of men?That thine office is, I know.''Nay,' he answered me, 'not so;But I weigh the hope of ManSince the power of choice began,In the