Poems by George Houghton

Poems by George Houghton

Rest, by George Houghton

I love this old, red house,
Where many a summer night I've lain at ease
Behind that upper win...

Restlessness, by George Houghton

Weary with waiting, we climb to the hill-tops nearest to heaven,
Find only floating fogs, and...

Sandy Hook, by George Houghton

White sand and cedars; cedars, sand;
Light-houses here and there; a strand
Strewn o'er with d...

Scarred, by George Houghton

Far nobler the sword that is nicked and worn,
Far fairer the flag that is grimy and torn,

The Sea-Shore, by George Houghton

To sit on the sand and read fine tales,
To follow the slant of the whitened sails,
And the cl...

The Shepherdess, by George Houghton

A hill of heather 'gainst a yellow sky;
And on its top, as on a buttress high,
A shape, a m...

The Summer Storm, by George Houghton

In a scurry of clouds
Sudden day fell,
What ho! Ye swallows!
All is not well.   With br...

The Three Poplars, by George Houghton

A picture from Normandy. Three of them--lithe Lombard poplars--
Stand half wading in the brook,...

The Tzigans' Pot, by George Houghton

I I am the Tzigans' pot;
I have come from a far-away no-man's-land,
Hung heavy in many a swa...

The Winter Court at Nidaros, by George Houghton

Long were the night-times on that slip of shore,
Hedged in on one hand by the snow-capped hills...

The Witch of York, by George Houghton

Up o'er the hill and broken wall
There stole a weird form, bent but tall;
And softly through ...

Wynhilda, by George Houghton

I Thou shalt not whimper, daughter mine!
No selfish season this for sighs!
There are kine to ...

Yesterday, by George Houghton

While King Karl at midnight feasted,
Sudden, springing from his chair,
With clenched hand he...

York-Harbor, by George Houghton

Below this spire, a town,
Where, truant from the city dials, come
The lazy hours to lose th...

Ambition, by George Houghton

The palace with its splendid dome,
That nearest to the sky aspires,
Is first to challenge sto...