Poet - Burr

He was straight and strong, and his eyes were blue
As the summer meeting of sky and sea,
And the ruddy cliffs had a colder hue
Than flushed his chees when he married me.

We passed the porch where the swallows breed,
We left the little brown church behind,
And I leaned on his arm, though I had no need,
Only to feel him so strong and kind.

One thing I never can quite forget;
It grips my throat when I try to pray-
The keen salt smell of a drying net
That hung on the churchyard wall that day.

He would have taken a long, long grave-
A long, long grave, for he stood so tall...
Oh, God, the crash of a breaking wave,
And the smell of the nets on the churchyard wall!.

Nocturne

All the earth a hush of white,
White with moonlight all the skies;
Wonder of a winter night -
And . . . your eyes.

Hues no palette dares to claim
Where the spoils of sunken ships
Leap to light in singing flame -
And . . . your lips.

Darkness as the shadows creep
Where the embers sigh to rest;
Silence of a world asleep -
And . . . your breast.

Surrender

As I look back upon your first embrace
I understand why from your sudden touch
Angered I sprang, and struck you in the face.
You asked at once too little and too much.
But now that of my spirit you require
Love's very soul that unto death endures,
Crown as you will the cup of your desire -
I am all yours.

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