Photo & Poem Gallery

“Leave it as it is. The ages have been at work on it and man can only mar it.”

Some men never think of it.
You did.  You'd come along
And say you'd nearly brought me flowers
But something had gone wrong.

The shop was closed.  Or you had doubts-
The sort that minds like ours
Dream up incessantly.  You thought

No poem presented with this photograph.

Drink to me only with thine eyes, 
         And I will pledge with mine; 
Or leave a kiss but in the cup, 
         And I’ll not look for wine. 
The thirst that from the soul doth rise 
         Doth ask a drink divine; 
But might I of Jove’s nectar sup, 

A memory of germination, vegetation, and abundance and a harsh symbol of the devastation of climate change. 

Oh, greenly and fair in the lands of the sun, 
The vines of the gourd and the rich melon run, 
And the rock and the tree and the cottage enfold, 
With broad leaves all greenness and blossoms all gold...

I build my house of shining glass
of crystal
prisms
light and clear,
delicate. The wind blows
Sets my room to singing.
The sun’s bright rays 
are not held back
but pour their radiance through the rooms
in sparkles of delight.

Perhaps the truth depends on a walk around the lake.

Lilacs,
False blue,
White,
Purple,
Color of lilac.
Heart-leaves of lilac all over New England,
Roots of lilac under all the soil of New England,
Lilac in me because I am New England,
Because my roots are in it,

I have seen a face with a thousand countenances, and a face that was but a single countenance as if held in a mould.
 
I have seen a face whose sheen I could look through to the ugliness beneath, and a face whose sheen I had to lift to see how beautiful it was.