Hic Yet surely there are men who have made their art Out of no tragic war; lovers of life, Impulsive men, that look for happiness, And sing when they have found it. Ille No, not sing, For those that love the world serve it in action, Grow rich, popular, and full of influence; And...
My coachman, in the moonlight there, Looks through the side light of the door; I hear him with his brethren swear, As I could do,—but only more. Flattening his nose against the pane, He envies me my brilliant lot, Breathes on his aching fists in vain, And dooms me to a place...
Read MoreI sat on the front step with the clouds covering the rays And as I surrendered to the moment I realized the sun doesn’t always shine Sometimes your parents don’t work it out like they promised they would Most times your skin doesn’t resemble that of a porcelain doll And often...
Read MoreHow happy is he born and taught That serveth not another's will; Whose armour is his honest thought And simple truth his utmost skill; Whose passions not his masters are; Whose soul is still prepared for death, Not tied unto the world with care Of public fame, or private breath; Who envies none...
Read MoreI weigh not fortune’s frown or smile; I joy not much in earthly joys; I seek not state, I reck not style; I am not fond of fancy’s toys: I rest so pleased with what I have, I wish no more, no more I crave. I quake not at the thunder’s...
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