Katharine Tynan Poems

I am the pillars of the house;
The keystone of the arch am I.
Take me away, and roof and wall
Would fall to ruin me utterly.
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The Spring comes slowly up this way,
Slowly, slowly,
Under a snood of hodden grey.
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THE Year of the Sorrows went out with great wind:
Lift up, lift up, O broken hearts, your Lord is kind,
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God bless the little orchard brown
Where the sap stirs these quickening days.
Soon in a white and rosy gown
The trees will give great praise.
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The boys come home, come home from war,
With quiet eyes for quiet things --
A child, a lamb, a flower, a star,
A bird that softly sings.
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For the first time since he was born
Her son, her rose without a thorn,
They are at variance, they who were
Always such closest friends and dear.
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CLOUDS is under clouds and rain
For there will not come again
Two, the beloved sire and son
Whom all gifts were rained upon.
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There's music in my heart all day,
I hear it late and early,
It comes from fields are far away,
The wind that shakes the barley.
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The Meuse and Marne have little waves;
The slender poplars o'er them lean.
One day they will forget the graves
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To the aid of my little son
I call all the magnalities --
Archangel, Dominion,
Powers and Principalities.
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