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Home is the sailor
I had at sea
an abundance of sea,
spice and gold
in lieu of god,
the absence of time.
At home, I sleep,
the wench mending my breeches
by my bed.
Poems on the topic: spice
Poems on the topic “spice” on Poets.by.
Midnight rider
Twelve o’clock, and I go hunting
with a tin box to carry
spice to the dead,
which trouble me;
get nothing and see little—
like a history of twelve at night.
Alabaster
Like this alabaster box whose art
Is frail as a cassia-flower, is my heart,
Carven with delicate dreams and wrought
With many a subtle and exquisite thought.
Therein I treasure the spice and scent
Of rich and passionate memories blent
Like odours of cinnamon, sandal and clove,
Of song and sorrow and life and love.
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