William Stanley Braithwaite
William Stanley Braithwaite Poems
|1.||A White Road||4/22/2010|
|5.||Madame Of Dreams||4/22/2010|
|7.||Messengers Of Dreams||4/22/2010|
|8.||My Thoughs Go Marching Like An Armed Host||4/22/2010|
|9.||On The Death Of Thomas Bailey Aldrich||4/22/2010|
|11.||Sandy Star And Willie Gee||4/22/2010|
|15.||The House Of Falling Leaves||4/22/2010|
|16.||To Arthur Upson||4/22/2010|
|18.||To Fiona (Nineteen Months Old)||4/22/2010|
|19.||Turn Me To My Yellow Leaves||4/22/2010|
Comments about William Stanley Braithwaite
The House Of Falling Leaves
OFF our New England coast the sea to-night
Is moaning the full sorrow of its heart:
There is no will to comfort it apart
Since moon and stars are hidden from its sight.
And out beyond the furthest harbor-light
There runs a tide that marks not any chart
Wherewith man knows the ending and the start
Of that long voyage in the infinite.
If change and fate and hapless circumstance
May baffle and perplex the moaning sea,
And day and night in alternate advance
Still hold the primal Reasoning in fee,
Cannot my Grief be strong enough to ...
Del Cascar, Del Cascar,
Stood upon a flaming star,
Stood, and let his feet hang down
Till in China the toes turned brown.
And he reached his fingers over
The rim of the sea, like sails from Dover,
And caught a Mandarin at prayer,
And tickled his nose in Orion's hair.