Photo & Poem Gallery

Every Saturday, my mother would bring me here
and while she taught her studio classes,I'd get myself lost on purpose,
starting at the pyramids,
the tiny clay slaves
I'd watch till I'd feel the rope burns on my shoulders,
the gritty sand between my teeth

On a clear day rise and look around you
And you'll see who you are
On a clear day how it will astound you
That the glow of your being outshines every star
You'll feel part of every mountain, sea and shore

I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.

A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the earth’s sweet flowing breast;

A tree that looks at God all day,
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;

This morning as I walked along the lakeshore,
I fell in love with a wren
and later in the day with a mouse
the cat had dropped under the dining room table. 

Often I had gone this way before:
But now it seemed I never could be
And never had been anywhere else;
'Twas home; one nationality
We had, I and the birds that sang,
One memory.
 
They welcomed me. I had come back

The temple bell -
Is it Ueno, is it Akakusa?

How many, many things
They call to mind
These cheery-blossoms!

Very brief -
Gleam of blossoms in the treetops
On a moonlit night.  

A lovely spring night

I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,
And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made;
Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honey-bee,
And live alone in the bee-loud glade.

Promise this world your love-
For better or for worse,
In sickness and in health,
So long as we shall live. 

This is the time to be slow,
Lie low to the wall
Until the bitter weather passes. 

Loveliest of trees, the cherry now
Is hung with bloom along the bough 
And stands about the woodland ride
Dressed in white for Eastertide. 

Now, of my three score years and ten,
Twenty will not come again,