David Morton

Being very proud, and secret, much alone, Private by choice, and quiet, and austere, The passionate heart within its room of bone, Is secret, still, for even the most near— Is private, still, and lonely, and stern-willed; Never the casual passer in [...]

Slow-falling through this amber light, The silver and uncertain rain Bestows confusion on the sight Wherein no common thing is plain,— Wherein the oak and elm we see Are less—and more—than what they were, Not elm and oak now, but the Tr [...]

Think what is waiting, in blue fields of air, Or hid in grass, or through bright water going, Or, shy and eager in woods (though none comes there), Known only, now, in a remembered knowing; Or hiding beneath sound, in the grave voice That covers [...]

It must be that the listening silence holds Some cherished part of everything it hears, To bear forever in its gracious folds A medley of the gone, articulate years. Here, in the frozen stillness of this time, We stop and listen . .&thin [...]

Written in Memory of A.D., a Pioneer of Southwest Virginia and of Bedford County, Tennessee I. Descending Chestnut Ridge Now let my habitude be where the vine Tumbles the sagging rails, and the late crow Alone can challenge, whom for countersign [...]

For C.P.A. I. Nostalgia His acres, golden now the light is late, And the fields sweet of breath in the cool air, The man walks out to ponder the estate Of man-on-acres—and his feet will fare Toward no intended corner of his lands, Being [...]