Roger Hadden Poems

In my garden three ways meet,
Thrice the spot is blessed;
Hermit thrush comes there to build
Carrier doves to rest.
...

I strolled across
An open field;
The sun was out;
Heat was happy.
...

She is beautiful and good,
But of amiable mood,
No dreary repeater now and again,
She will be all things to all men.
...

The sun set, but not his hope:
Stars rose; his faith was earlier up:
Fixed on the enormous galaxy,
Deeper and older seemed his eye;
...

The bigger the tomb, the smaller the man.
The weaker the case, the thicker the brief.
The deeper the wound, the older the wound.
The graver the loss, the dryer the twears.
...

Home is so sad. It stays as it was left.
Shaped to the comfort of the last to go
As if to win them back. Instead bereft
Of anyone to please, it withers so,
...

I went down to the corner.
I stood there feeling blue-
I used to go around the corner,
Babe, and call on you.
...

I went to the Garden of LOVE
And saw what I had never seen:
A Chapel was built in the midst,
Where I used to play on the green.
...