John Hay Poems

Take from my hand, dear love, these opening flowers.
Afar from thee they grew, 'neath alien skies
Their stems sought light and life in humble wise,
Fed by the careless suns and vagrant showers.
...

I sent my love two roses, one
As white as driven snow,
And one a blushing royal red,
A flaming Jacqueminot.
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My love is like a planet in the sky
Whereon a star-seer bends his reverent gaze,
Waiting for those bright moments when its rays
Flame out in beauty; then his raptured eye
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The knightly legend of thy shield betrays
The moral of thy life; a forecast wise,
And that large honor that deceit defies,
Inspired thy fathers in the eider days,
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A vision seen by Plato the divine:
Two shuddering souls come forward, waiting doom
From Rhadamanthus in the nether gloom.
One is a slave hunger has made him pine;
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Saith the Lord, "Vengeance is mine;
I will repay," saith the Lord;
Ours be the anger divine,
Lit by the flash of his word.
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Slow flapping to the setting sun
By twos and threes, in wavering rows.
As twilight shadows dimly close,
The crows fly over Washington.
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She lived shut in by flowers and trees
And shade of gentle bigotries.
On this side lay the trackless sea,
On that the great world's mystery;
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My short and happy day is done,
The long and dreary night comes on;
And at my door the Pale Horse stands,
To carry me to unknown lands.
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On Tabor's height a glory came,
And, shrined in clouds of lambent flame,
The awestruck, hushed disciples saw
Christ and the prophets of the law.
...