Our Lives

Our lives are songs. God writes the words,
And we set them to music at pleasure;
And the song grows glad, or sweet, or sad,
As we choose to fashion the measure.

We must write the music, whatever the song,
Whatever its rhyme, or meter;
And if it is sad, we can make it glad,
Or if sweet, we can make it sweeter.

One has a song that is free and ( Read more... )

Cross-post from war_poetry:

ProtestTo sin by silence, when we should protest ( Read more... )

Ad FinemOn the white throat of useless passion ( Read more... )

The ManiacI saw them sitting in the shade ( Read more... )

Our LivesOur lives are songs. God writes the words ( Read more... )

A Lover's QuarrelWe two were lovers, the Sea and I ( Read more... )

October ( Read more... )

PerfectnessAll perfect things are saddening in effect ( Read more... )

FishingMaybe this is fun, sitting in the sun ( Read more... )

ANSWERED.

Good-by--yes, I am going.
Sudden? Well, you are right.
But a startling truth came home to me
With sudden force last night.
What is it? shall I tell you--
Nay, that is why I go.
I am running away from the battlefield,
Turning my back on the foe.

( Read more... )