James McLain Silver Poems

She is too young,
I was not old enough.
On her I spent my dime.
Fresh roses there might grow.
...

I struggled with the old and with the new.
I struggled,
Through the dreams where you were you.
...

Dear mother,
of my from your, 'O.
I am with the sickness of his love,
his love for me it grows inside.
...

When you came as warm wind,
I felt the breeze loosen my thoughts
and the oil from the lamp was as if again.
As if I never knew, so few could be so many,
...

i am the art of silver that you gaze into and make
and i am strict.
strict and hard,
harder than the strictest,
...