Richard Watson Gilder Poems

What is a sonnet? 'Tis the pearly shell
That murmurs of the far-off murmuring sea;
A precious jewel carved most curiously;
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WORDS praising music, what are they but leaves
Whirled round the fountain by the wind that grieves.
Frail human speech falls idly as the snow
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What is a sonnet? 'Tis the pearly shell
That murmurs of the far-off murmuring sea;
A precious jewel carved most curiously:
...

Glory and honor and fame and everlasting laudation
For our captains who loved not war, but fought for the life of the nation;
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THIS bronze doth keep the very form and mould
Of our great martyr’s face. Yes, this is he:
That brow all wisdom, all benignity;
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IF songs were perfume, color, wild desire;
If poet's words were fire
That burned to blood in purple-pulsing veins;
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O, Father's gone to market-town, he was up before the day,
And Jamie's after robins, and the man is making hay,
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HER voice was like the song of birds;
Her eyes were like the stars;
Her little waving hands were like
Birds’ wings that beat the bars.
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A dun, bleak stretch that slants to the salt sea's gray -
Rock-strewn, and scarred by fire, and rough with
stubble,-
With here and there a bold, b ...
...

HE of the ocean is, its thunderous waves
Echo his music; while far down the shore
Mad laughter hurries —a white, blowing spume.
...