Nancy Byrd Turner Poems

He played by the river when he was young.
He raced with rabbits along the hills,
He fished for minnows, and climbed and swung,
...

Everything is black and gold,
Black and gold, to-night:
Yellow pumpkins, yellow moon
Yellow candlelight;
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Death is only an old door
Set in a garden wall
On gentle hinges it gives, at dusk
When the thrushes call
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Peace and Mercy and Jonathan,
And Patience (very small),
Stood by the table giving thanks
The first Thanksgiving of all.
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Who loves his country will not rest
Content with vow and pledge alone,
But flies her banner in his breast
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There was a boy of other days,
A quiet, awkward, earnest lad,
Who trudged long weary miles to get
A book on which his heart was set—
And then no candle had!
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Here is this day,

Across the fields of darkness softly come

Into my silent room,
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The Wooden Dog and the China Cat
Face to face in the doll-house sat,
And they picked a quarrel that grew and grew,
Because they had nothing else to do.
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Men go out from the places where they dwelled,
They know not why not whither, overborne
At midnight by some awful word, foresworn
Between one dark and day, called and compelled.
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Amos and Ann had a poem to learn,
A poem to learn one day;
But alas! they sighed, and alack! they cried,
...