Robert Laurence Binyon Poems

She was binding the wounds of her enemies when they came—
The lint in her hand unrolled.
...

O Thou who seekest me
Through the day's heartless hurry and uproar,
Who followest me to my thought's farthest shore--
...

Who are these that meet
At random in the street?
Adversaries! Yet they
Make no sign nor stay.
...

Who are these that come from the ends of the oceans,
Coming as the swallows come out of the South
...

I
``O King Amasis, hail!
News from thy friend, the King Polycrates!
My oars have never rested on the seas
...

A day that is boundless as youth
And gay with delight to be born,
Where the waves flash and glide over sands
...

Ah, now this happy month is gone,
Not now, my heart, complain,
Nor rail at Time because so soon
He takes his own again.
...

Why hurt so hard by little pricks,
By chasing cares so clouded over,
Heart of mine?
...

Not yet a bough to bud may dare
On the naked tree.
Yet happy leaves in the bough prepare,
And could I see
...

My spirit was like the lonely air
Before night,
Like hovering cloud that's melted there
In the late light,
...