Once musing o'er an old effaced stone, Longing to know whose dust it did conceal, I anxious ponder'd o'er what might reveal, And sought the seeming date with weeds o'ergrown;...
He primmed his loose red mouth, and leaned his head Against a sorrowing angel's breast, and said: "You'd think so much bereavement would have made Unusual big demands upon my trade....
Dost thou hear the tom-toms throbbing, Like a lonely lover sobbing For the beauty that is robbing him of all his life's delight? Plaintive sounds, restrained, enthralling,...
On my northwest coast in the midst of the night, a fishermen's group stands watching; Out on the lake, that expands before them, others are spearing salmon;...
God let me fall from His hand One day at His forge when the elemental world Was shaping. I am but a breath from His great bellows, But here among the workshops of mankind I am a fateful scourge. ...
There's something in a noble boy, A brave, free-hearted, careless one, With his unchecked, unbidden joy, His dread of books and love of fun, And in his clear and ready smile,...
...The poetry is fine... rewarding reading... Almost every poem in Sympathetic Magic boasts an admirable image or two. Brown can write, without a doubt.
Bare bones future Medical schools may be facing a bare bones future, thanks to a shortage of skeletons. According to an article in The Medical Post, most anatomy skeletons come from...
Valiant sons of the sea, All the vast deep, your home, Holds no terror so dread As this novel and unseen foe, Lurking under the foam Of some dangerous channel -...
Here is a tale for workmen and their masters: There was a torrent once that down a mountain Flashed its resistless way; a foaming fountain, Basaltic-built, 'twixt cataract-hewn pilasters....
With mighty rush and roar, Adown a mountain steep A torrent tumbled, - swelling o'er Its rugged banks, - and bore Vast ruin in its sweep. The traveller were surely rash...
A light-brain'd tortoise, anciently, Tired of her hole, the world would see. Prone are all such, self-banish'd, to roam - Prone are all cripples to abhor their home....
Their strength had fed on this when Death's white arms Came sleeved in vapors and miasmal dew, Curling across the jungle's ferny floor, Becking each fevered brain. On bleak divides,...
They were like dreams that in a drowsy hour A sad old God had dreamed in loneliness of power. They were like dreams that in his drowsy mind Rose slowly and then, darkening, made him wise and blind--...
He was a jobbing hand from the printers' flat. His name was Raymond Cato, but he acquired 'Toucher' as a complimentary title when we knew him better. He was tall, sallow, languid and distressingly impecunious. I put it that way...
The touches of her hands are like the fall Of velvet snowflakes; like the touch of down The peach just brushes 'gainst the garden wall; The flossy fondlings of the thistle-wisp...
Time, who with soft pale ashes veils the brand Of many a hope that flared against the sky To plant its heaven-storming banners high, Has touched you with no desecrating hand;...