Robert Crawford Poems

He is too young yet to know life's demands;
Being no natural philosopher,
He must from cause and custom draw that art
...

Who goes across those waters
On which the Moon ne'er shone,
With the passenger he came for
As in a dream moved on?
...

Because our life is brief
Let us laugh!
Because for joy and grief
We may quaff
...

The joy of God gets into us, and we
Hum with the intuition of His power;
Even as a linnet, like a thing inspired,
...

Two words or three
The bird sings in the tree:
My love was all to me
When life was young.
...

As he of Joppa sought to 'scape
The utterance of the given word,
And dared to get him from the Lord
In a ship down to Tarshish, — know
...

We sometimes hap on truth in a strange attire,
As even the gods were wont for their designs
To take on bestial forms; subduing so
...

The copse-wood merely sows
Itself, not planted;
And so it is with those
Strange and enchanted
...

He has a charm that sets each thought to music,
So rare an utterance, whoso hears him feels
Even a prosy theme has poesy
...

You, too, shall know that I have prayed
Beneath the mystic tree
Whose branches at the first were made
Out of God's memory.
...