Sophia White Poems

I long, with blood and bone, to carve my name
Deep into the tree of glowing thought;
To set my words in wood eternal grown
So deep that time cannot wear them away.
...

What if I died and you were not here
If you were far, far away
And I died while you were gone.
Would you hear of it soon?
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She has piles and piles of papers to write.
She has miles and miles of sources to cite.

She has many and many a book to read.
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There is this feeling –
Not an emotion, not a tangible sensation,
But a deep and unspeakable sense
That I cannot explain in words or in art.
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All the wishfuls desperately cry:
“Muse! Muse! O Muse! ”
But where is the muse
To enthuse
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This is a pleasant evening,
Jazzy, in a way that makes you dance.
If it were a color, I’d call it transparent blue,
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Ah, the soft guitars that play
and lull the twilight.
I, unseen and all alone
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I want a wind
To start in the far-off mountain
To rush down in a raging fury
And fill this dull and silent valley.
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She saw a man on television
In a suit and tie
And he wore a fine felt hat
Cocked over his eye.
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Oh! How I want adventure!
Perhaps I’m being dumb,
But how I’d love to sail the sea
An advocate of piracy
...