Roderic Quinn Poems
|82.||The Voices Of The Rain||4/16/2010|
|84.||The Year's End||4/16/2010|
|86.||Twilight And Peace||4/16/2010|
|89.||With The Quandongs||4/16/2010|
Comments about Roderic Quinn
SHE is standing at the gate,
Tall and sweet,
And although the hour be late
She will greet
Me, her lover,
Absent mind and tardy feet.
‘Rest,’ I’ll say to her, ‘and more rest,’
As she wraps her love around me,
And I’ll tell her of the forest,
Of the strange, fear-haunted forest
Where the fleshless beings found me.
For I trod a rock-strewn rude way
Thinking only of my lover,
When the moonlight on the woodway,
Made a weird-way of the woodway, ...
The Circling Hearths
MY Countrymen, though we are young as yet
With little history, nought to show
Of lives enleagued against a foreign foe,
Torn flags and triumph, glory or regret;
Still some things make our kinship sweet,
Some deeds inglorious but of royal worth,
As when with tireless arms and toiling feet
We felled the tree and tilled the earth.