Photo & Poem Gallery

"The Island at the Center of the World"

Pixie, kobold, elf, and sprite
All are on their rounds to-night,—
   In the wan moon’s silver ray
   Thrives their helter-skelter play.
 
Fond of cellar, barn, or stack
True unto the almanac,
   They present to credulous eyes

"Life is short, the Art long." - Hippocrates of Kos

"By dint of building well, you get to be a good architect" - Aristotle

“Beauty perishes in life, but is immortal in art” - Leonardo da Vinci

Majestic Haystack, Empress of my life,
Your ample waist
Just fits the gown I fancy for my wife,
And suits my taste;
Yet there you stand, flat-footed, square and deep,
An unresponsive, elephantine heap,
Coquetting with the stars while I’m asleep,

The American eagle is not aware he is
the American eagle. He is never tempted
to look modest.

When orators advertise the American eagle’s
virtues, the American eagle is not listening.
This is his virtue.

This morning was something. A little snow
lay on the ground. The sun floated in a clear
blue sky. The sea was blue, and blue-green,
as far as the eye could see.
Scarcely a ripple. Calm. I dressed and went
for a walk—determined not to return

Day is done, gone the sun,
From the lake, from the hills, from the sky;
All is well, safely rest, God is nigh.

The sea is calm tonight.
The tide is full, the moon lies fair
Upon the straits; on the French coast the light
Gleams and is gone; the cliffs of England stand,
Glimmering and vast, out in the tranquil bay.
Come to the window, sweet is the night-air!

A boat, beneath a sunny sky
Lingering onward dreamily
In an evening of July--

Children three that nestle near,
eagle eye and willing ear,
Pleased simple tale to hear--

Long has paled that sunny sky:
Echoes fade and memories die:

There is a place where the sidewalk ends
And before the street begins,
And there the grass grows soft and white,
Sand there the sun burns crimson bright,
And there the moon-bird rests from his flight
To cool in the peppermint wind.