Charles Hanson Towne

(1847-1949 / United States)

Charles Hanson Towne Poems

41. Parting 4/3/2010
42. Preparation 4/3/2010
43. Remembrance 4/3/2010
44. Remote 4/3/2010
45. Renewal 4/3/2010
46. Song 4/3/2010
47. Spring Rapture 4/3/2010
48. Surrender 4/3/2010
49. The Boast 4/3/2010
50. The Depth Of Love 4/3/2010
51. The Flame 4/3/2010
52. The Footfarer 4/3/2010
53. The Friends 4/3/2010
54. Resurrection 4/3/2010
55. Selfishness 4/3/2010
56. September 4/3/2010
57. Love, The Victor 4/3/2010
58. The Good Queen 4/3/2010
59. The Great And Silent Things 4/3/2010
60. The House Of The Heart 4/3/2010
61. The King 4/3/2010
62. The Lights 4/3/2010
63. The Little Home Paper 4/3/2010
64. The Lover In April 4/3/2010
65. The Messed Damozel 4/3/2010
66. The Parks 4/3/2010
67. The Poet 4/3/2010
68. The Procession 4/3/2010
69. The Promise 4/3/2010
70. The Room 4/3/2010
71. The Royal Messenger 4/3/2010
72. The Silences 4/3/2010
73. The Voices 4/3/2010
74. The Woman's Way 4/3/2010
75. Till Eulenspiegel 4/3/2010
76. To A Hurdy-Gurdy 4/3/2010
77. To My Country 4/3/2010
78. Toward Bethlehem 4/3/2010
79. Traffic 4/3/2010
80. Unanswered 4/3/2010
Best Poem of Charles Hanson Towne

Around The Corner

Around the corner I have a friend,
In this great city that has no end,
Yet the days go by and weeks rush on,
And before I know it, a year is gone.

And I never see my old friends face,
For life is a swift and terrible race,
He knows I like him just as well,
As in the days when I rang his bell.

And he rang mine but we were younger then,
And now we are busy, tired men.
Tired of playing a foolish game,
Tired of trying to make a name.

'Tomorrow' I say! 'I will call on Jim
Just to show that I'm thinking of him',
But tomorrow comes and tomorrow ...

Read the full of Around The Corner

Love's Ritual

Breathe me the ancient words when I shall find
   Your spirit mine; if, seeking you, life wins
New wonder, with old splendor let us bind
   Our hearts when Love's high sacrament begins.

Exalt my soul with pomp and pageantry,
   Sing the eternal songs all lovers sing;
Yea, when you come, gold let our vestments be,
   And lamps of silver let us softly swing.

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