When
When the roll is called up yonder,
(If any roll there be) —
And the saints have ceased to ponder,
(If any saints there be) —
I'll be there to share the story
Of that everlasting glory,
(I'll be there, maybe).
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Contemplative, Anna M. Johnson, in English Clear filters
Birches
I love the friendly Birch,
When gracefully and tall I see it rise
Through greening pines,
Waving white arms to summer skies,
Or cousining in clumps in bent outlines,
It whispers confidences — sweetest Birch.
I love the dainty Birch,
Tho’ wonderfully clad in sheerest white,
Akin to nudity, no fears alarm,
When Winter starts its blights,
Its purity is changeless, and it bears
No season’s malice — peerless Birch!
A Star May Set
Those eyes look in upon my soul
And ask me questions I would fain ignore;
How can I tell them of my poor control
That stalks me through some inner door?
Those eyes look in upon my heart
And try to probe the number of its beats;
How can I dare destroy the tears that start,
How can I speak of Life and its defeats?
Those eyes look words I cannot answer yet:
Perhaps this universe or distant space
Will sometime shed a light—a star may set,
And bursting, show to us a trysting place.
Friendship
My friend, I cannot trespass on your heart,
Nor try the strings that fit its melodies
So beautiful, they are a world apart —
Belonging to yourself — your minstrelsy.
I must not try to bring myself to see
That songs that make your daily life so full,
Might haply give the same sweet joys to me,
Of fill the voids in my sequestered soul.
If I should mar your usefulness
By one discordant sound,
The falsity of selfishness
Would wound — forever wound.
Expressing Moods
What color do I feel today?
In wild imagination’s play,
By fancy in a riot led,
I pause — and dash my cheek with red.
What color do my thoughts portray?
Like soaring bird on crest of day,
In joyous mood — I stop to think,
And splash my cheek with vivid pink.
What color says my soul today?
The sky is low, and drab, and grey,
My feelings dull with life’s abuse —
I’ll paint my face with paler rouge.
Whence comes this color scale to bear
Upon the feelings I must wear?
Does nature call me like a freak
To thus bedaub my chin and cheek?
Retreat
Let me sit quiet: then I can know
The wellsprings of my heart have found their rest:
Let me be silent: then is it so
When my lone thoughts are at their very best.
Thoughts and Words
Words are such futile things!
They only grasp at thoughts,
And leave them all unsaid,
But half expressed,
And wandering in the heart
Unclothed, unfed!
Musings
Ache heart! What right have you
To hold a universe in tow,
To make a wish come true
To ease your woe?
When I depart shall I be living,
Or shall I be in truth
Among the dead?
Only the so-called living bury
The so-called fled;
Count me alive and giving
Love to my best beloved.I put a plaster on my heart tonight,
Poor heart — so sad, so sore, o’er Earthly griefs —
It drew the tears to surface sheets;
Like raindrops in a sudden flight,
It washed away some false beliefs,
And left it healed— such strange retreats!
Tears
These are no idle tears
That dance into my eyes
As sudden raindrops do
From out the darkened skies.
These tears have soaked through
All my being in their flow
Of cleansing power,
And every sentient Earthly woe
That would my soul devour,
Is drowned by them and disappears.
Remorse
My heart is like a toy horse
Whose rider fired with fun,
Whips up its sides for good or worse,
And tries a race to run.
Some day that toy horse will fail
To feel its rider’s joy;
Its silver trapping soon will trail
In dust of meaningless deploy,
For after all ‘tis but a toy.
Describe a feeling — we’ll find a poem
Or try: