Henry Abbey

(11 July 1842 - 7 June 1911 / Kingston, NY)

Henry Abbey Poems

1. Agnes Hatot 4/26/2012
2. Along The Nile 4/26/2012
3. Autumn Ballad 4/26/2012
4. Bellerophon 4/26/2012
5. By Hudson's Tide 4/26/2012
6. Donald 9/21/2010
7. Eleusinia 4/26/2012
8. Emmanuel 4/26/2012
9. Faith’s Vista 9/21/2010
10. Fanciebat 4/26/2012
11. Flos Morti 4/26/2012
12. In Memory Of General Grant 9/21/2010
13. Invocation To The Sun 4/26/2012
14. Low Tide 4/26/2012
15. Mary Magdalene 4/26/2012
16. Moro 4/26/2012
17. On A Great Warrior 9/21/2010
18. Ontiora 4/26/2012
19. Science And The Soul 4/26/2012
20. The Age Of Good 4/26/2012
21. The Bedouin's Rebuke 4/26/2012
22. The Drawbridge Keeper 4/26/2012
23. The Fisher-Maidens 4/26/2012
24. The French Marshall 4/26/2012
25. The King And The Naiad 4/26/2012
26. The Long Regret 4/26/2012
27. The Patriot's Courage 4/26/2012
28. The Picture 4/26/2012
29. The Roman Sentinal 4/26/2012
30. The Singer's Alms 4/26/2012
31. The Statue 4/26/2012
32. The Storm 4/26/2012
33. The Sunken City 4/26/2012
34. The Troubadour 4/26/2012
35. To A Blue Hepatica 4/26/2012
36. To Baffle Time 4/26/2012
37. Trailing Arbutus 4/26/2012
38. What Do We Plant? 9/21/2010
39. While The Days Go By 4/26/2012
40. Winter Days 9/21/2010
Best Poem of Henry Abbey

The Drawbridge Keeper

Drecker, a drawbridge keeper, opened wide
The dangerous gate to let the vessel through;
His little son was standing by his side,
Above Passaic River deep and blue,
While in the distance, like a moan of pain,
Was heard the whistle of the coming train.

At once brave Drecker worked to swing it back,
The gate-like bridge that seems a gate of death;
Nearer and nearer, on the slender track,
Came the swift engine, puffing its white breath.
Then, with a shriek, the loving father saw
His darling boy fall headlong from the draw!

Either at once down in the ...

Read the full of The Drawbridge Keeper

Winter Days

Now comes the graybeard of the north:
The forests bare their rugged breasts
To every wind that wanders forth,
And, in their arms, the lonely nests
That housed the birdlings months ago
Are egged with flakes of drifted snow.

No more the robin pipes his lay
To greet the flushed advance of morn;

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