Poems by Fred Emerson Brooks

Pray, gentle stranger, tell me, if you know,
Is this the spot where Jesus stopped to rest,
...

Fair Tombstone sits high on her hills
Midst Arizona's rolling plains,
Where low-ridged mountai...

Midway to heaven I stand between two skies:
The blue above, the purple one below.
Far down th...

Nay, pretty maiden, be not shy;
Perchance I've come a-wooing thee.
Yon tempting apple does n...

Fear not, grand eagle,
The bay of the beagle!
No hunter his gun will incline!
He's branded w...

I am that mythical, mystical thing--
The little one's monarch, the children's king!
The might...