Virna Sheard Poems

O mighty men of England
Who sleep on land and sea,
How swiftly you would join our ranks
If Death could set you free!
...

They have laid him away;
Even he who was always so strong and gay
Will be locked in the earth till the judgment day;
'Dust unto dust' I have heard the priest say.
...

True lovers' words are deathless things;
Eros, the little god, and wise,
Catches them all,-gives to them wings,
And turns them into fireflies!
...

I weary of the histories of men-
The garnered store of books in grim array;
Life's bitter salvage, leather-bound, and then
Left to the silence and a bloom of gray.
...

Now by every meadow-side the buttercups blow-
(O June, you are spendthrift of your gold!)
Green are the uplands where the little lambs go,
Green and glad the forests that are old.
...

Here in my garden where the tulips grow
I walk alone;
Dim are my eyes with tears, my feet are slow
My heart is stone;
...

In lonely gardens deserted-unseen-
Oh! lovely lilacs of purple and white,
You are dipping down through a mist of green;
For the morning sun's delight.
...

We used to fear the lonely road
That twisted round the hill;
It dipped down to the river-way,
...

Up from the templed city of the Jews,
The road ran straight and white
To Jericho, the City of the Palms,
...

Now cometh October--a nut-brown maid,
Who in robes of crimson and gold arrayed
Hath taken the king's highway!
...