Searock his tower above the sea,
Searock he built, not ivory.
Searock as well his haunted art
Who gave to plunging hawks his hearts.
He loved to stand upon his head
To demonstrate he was not dead.
Ah, if his poems misbehave
'Tis only to defy the grave.
This exquisite patrician bird
Grooming a neatly folded wing
Guarded for years the Sacred Word.
A while he sang then ceased to sing.
His head carved out of granite O,
His hair a wayward drift of snow,
He worshipped the great God of Flow
By holding on and letting go.
Robert Francis, born in Upland, Pennsylvania in 1901. He was educated at Harvard University. After graduating, he moved into a small house in Amherst, Massachusetts that he named "Fort Juniper", inspiring editors at the University of Massachusetts Press to name their poetry award the Juniper Prize. His autobiography, The Trouble with Francis (1971), recounts in alarming detail the construction of this retreat, even including a ledger of materials and their cost down to the last nail, as though the poet were driven to prove his frugality. In The Satirical Rogue On Poetry, his curious collection of witticisms, criticisms and aphorisms,... Read more...
Ethel Turner was an Australian novelist and children's writer.
Ethel Turner was born in Doncaster, Yorkshire, England on 24th January, 1872. She migrated to Australia with her widowed mother, older sister Lilian and step sister, Jeannie in 1880.
Educated at Sydney Girls’ High School, she and Lilian wrote stories...
Dugdraaben blinker paa Rosengreen;
Den tindrer, den zittrer af Glæde:
I mindste Dugperle, klar og reen,
Er Verdenssolen tilstede.
Sjæle er Draaber paa Livets Green;
De tindre, de zittre af Glæde:
I Sjælens Dugperle, klar og reen,
Er Verdensaanden tilstede.
Dugdraaben blinker et Øjeblik;