Poem by Henry Abbey

Odyle

We know that they are often near
Of whom we think, of whom we talk,
Though we have missed them many a year,
And lost them from our daily walk.

Some strange clairvoyance dwells in all,
And webs the souls of human kind.
I would that I could learn its thrall,
And know the power of mind on mind.

I then might quickly use the sense,
To find where one I worship dwells,
If in the city, or if thence
Among the breeze-rung lily bells.

1. Faciebat
2. On a Great Warrior
3. Heliotrope
4. The Vendor of Violets
5. The Roman Sentinel

Print

1137 Views

Last Poems

To Russian version