Louis Untermeyer Poems

On the warm Sunday afternoons
And every evening in the Spring and Summer
When the night hurries the late home-corner
...

I

Pause, God, and ponder, ere Thou judgest me.
Though it be doomsday, and the trampling winds
...

What are we bound for? What’s the yield
Of all this energy and waste?
Why do we spend ourselves and build
With such an empty haste?
...

The quiet and courageous night,
A The keen vibration of the stars,
Call me, from morbid peace, to fight
...

LO, to the battle-ground of Life,
Child, you have come, like a conquering shout,
Out of a struggle—into strife;
Out of a darkness—into doubt.
...

Spring!
And her hidden bugles up the street.
Spring -- and the sweet
Laughter of winds at the crossing;
...

Eleven o’clock, and the curtain falls.
The cold wind tears the strands of illusion;
The delicate music is lost
...

Shut out the light or let it filter through
These frowning aisles as penitentially
As though it walked in sackcloth. Let it be
...

THE eager night and the impetuous winds,
The hints and whispers of a thousand lures,
And all the swift persuasion of the Spring,
...

We lay together in the sultry night.
A feeble light
From some invisible street-lamp crept
...