Orrick Johns Poems

I—The Song Of Youth
This is the song of youth,
This is the cause of myself;
...

There's nothing very beautiful and nothing very gay
About the rush of faces in the town by day,
But a light tan cow in a pale green mead,
That is very beautiful, beautiful indeed . . .
...

In the very early morning when the light was low
She got all together and she went like snow,
Like snow in the springtime on a sunny hill,
And we were only frightened and can't think still.
...

Would I were on the sea-lands,
   Where winds know how to sting;
And in the rocks at midnight
   The lost long murmurs sing.
...

What though the moon should come
   With a blinding glow,
And the stars have a game
   On the wood's edge,
...