John Kenyon Poems

Thou wert born where huge Missouri,
Rushing heretofore alone,
Bears to Mississippi dowry
...

Lily on liquid roses floating—
So floats yon foam o'er pink champagne—
Fain would I join such pleasant boating,
And prove that ruby main,
...

Praise who will the duller liquor
Juice of Portugal or Spain;
Fill for me with lighter—quicker—
Fill for me with Rose Champagne.
...

I judge not hardly childhood's giddy glee;
For I remember when my mother died,
Half-wondering at that age what death might be,
...

Yet brood deep feelings in the youngling breast,
Though undeveloped, natural as speech;
And my own tropic isle this truth impressed,
...

So when, mere child, I crossed the Atlantic tide,
Ah! ne'er to see our Carib isle again—
There, as it chanced, the watchful seaman spied ...
...

'Strange Power! mysterious Destiny!
Thou who dost love to sit, alone,
With moveless lip, and brooding eye,
Close beside the' eternal throne;
...

By Rome's old amphitheatre I stood,
Still pretty perfect, on the Weymouth road,
Within some half a mile of Dorchester.
...

Had Heaven, to prayer of mine more kind,
But snapped my thread of Being first,
I know how, lingering here behind,
...

Moon! if e'er thy broader light
Helpëd lover's prayer by night;
Now Eclipse hath veiled thee over,
Doubly—doubly—help a lover.
...