Arthur Henry Adams Poems

BENEATH this narrow jostling street,
Unruffled by the noise of feet,
Like a slow organ-note I hear
The pulses of the great world beat.
...

ONCE more this Autumn-earth is ripe,
Parturient of another type.

While with the Past old nations merge
...

I AM a weakling. God, who made
The still, strong man, made also me.
The God who could the tiger plan,
In his lithe splendour unafraid—
...

“AND have I changed?” she asked, and as she spoke
The old smile o'er her pale face bravely broke,
And in her eyes dead worlds of pathos woke.
Changed? When I knew again the ghost of each
...

THE WIDE sun stares without a cloud:
Whipped by his glances truculent
The earth lies quivering and cowed.
My heart is hot with discontent:
...

THEY drew him from the darkened room,
Where, swooning in a peace profound,
Beneath a heavy fragrance drowned
Her grey form glimmered in the gloom
...

HER glance is equable, serene;
She looks at life with level brow;
She strides through circumstance—a queen!
To compromise she cannot bow—
...

ALL the air was tranced and the sea was stilled,
And we stood and dreamed of a world to be.
When it seemed to me that our souls were thrilled
With a sudden sympathy.
...

THE stone that all the sullen centuries,
With sluggish hands and massive fingers rude,
Against the sepulchre of womanhood
Had sternly held, she has thrust back with ease
...

I STAND in old Earth's presence; over all
The warm, pervading sunshine seems to print
Life and the Present; and there is no glint
Of white bones from the Past's decaying pall;
...