Maurice Frances Egan Poems

THOUGH tuneless, stringless, it lies there in dust,
Like some great thought on a forgotten page;
The soul of music cannot fade or rust,—
...

When April rains make flowers bloom
And Johnny-jump-ups come to light,
And clouds of color and perfume
Float from the orchards pink and white,
...

As flame streams upward, so my longing thought
Flies up with Thee,
Thou God and Saviour, who hast truly wrought
...

THE OLD wine filled him, and he saw, with eyes
Anoint of Nature, fauns and dryads fair
Unseen by others; to him maidenhair
...