Photo & Poem Gallery

The Great Lawn
The Great Lawn
mcox

How to Be Perfect


                                                                                         Everything is perfect, dear friend.
                                                                                        —KEROUAC

 

Afternoon
Afternoon
mcox

Misty

Look at me, I'm as helpless as a kitten up a tree
And I feel like I'm clinging to a cloud, I can't understand
I get misty, just holding your hand
Walk my way, and a thousand violins begin to play
Or it might be the sound of your hello, that music I hear

The Park
The Park
mcox

Man and Dog

Who’s this—alone with stone and sky?
It’s only my old dog and I—
It’s only him; it’s only me;
Alone with stone and grass and tree.
 
What share we most—we two together?
Smells, and awareness of the weather.
What is it makes us more than dust?

Our Forest
Our Forest
mcox

Splendor in the Grass

What though the radiance
which was once so bright
Be now for ever taken from my sight,
Though nothing can bring back the hour
Of splendour in the grass,
of glory in the flower,
We will grieve not, rather find
Strength in what remains behind;

Cherry Hill Fountain
Cherry Hill Fountain
mcox

The Fountain

Into the sunshine,
    Full of the light,
Leaping and flashing,
    From morn till night!

Into the moonlight,
    Whiter than snow,
Waving so flower-like
    When the winds blow!

Afternoon Sun
Afternoon Sun
mcox

Loveliest of Trees

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

Now, of my threescore years and ten,
Twenty will not come again,
And take from seventy springs a score,

Cocktails
Cocktails
mcox

The City

In the morning the city
Spreads its wings
Making a song
In stone that sings.

In the evening the city
Goes to bed
Hanging lights 
Above its head.

Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis Reservoir
Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis Reservoir
Laura Conley

The Brook

I come from haunts of coot and hern,
I make a sudden sally,
And sparkle out among the fern,
To bicker down a valley.

By thirty Hills I hurry down,
Or slip between the ridges,
By twenty thorps, a little town,
And half a hundred bridges.