Poems in Many Lands

No trace to-day of what in her was fair! Only the record of long years grown green Upon the mirror’s lustreless dead sheen, Grown dim at last, when all else withered there.

They will not heed the warning Blown back on every wind, For hope is born with morning, The secret is behind. Whirled through in wild confusion, They pass the narrow strait, To...

The kind reception my first small volume of “Songs in the South” met with, has induced me to include a few of those poems in this more complete volume of early lyrics.

Gone south, it may be, rudderless, astray, Gone where the winds and ocean currents bore, Out of all tracks along the sea’s highway This many a day, To some far shore Where never...