Willard Wattles Poems

Jerico, Jerico,
Round and round the walls I go
Where they watch with scornful eyes,
Where the captained bastions rise;
...

Smoothing a cypress beam
With a scarred hand,
I saw a carpenter
In a far land.
...

From the surge of the western ocean and the roaring
of the sea,
From the Land of the Orange Blossom, thy daughter
cried to thee,
...

So plained the Poet from a land of fire,
Forgetful of the gaudy melon-bloom,
...

There is wonder in the wander-lust that sets the
feet to roaming,
And love has met me on the road and sweetened all
the gloaming;
...

A poor bewildered, half-crazed crone
She died, forgotten and alone;
And some there were who stopped to scoff
When the old dame was taken off,
...

How pitiful are little folk—
They seem so very small;
They look at stars, and think they are
Denominational.
...

I cannot think nor reason,
I only know he came
With hands and feet of healing
And wild heart all aflame.
...

There be five things to a man's desire:
Kine flesh, roof-tree, his own fire,
Clean cup of sweet wine from goat's hide,
And through dark night one to lie beside.
...