On A Library Wall

When faltering fingers bid me cease to write,
And, laying down the pen, I seek the Night,
May those, to whom the Daylight still is sweet,
With loving lips my name ofttimes repeat.
And should Belshazzar's spirit hither stray,
And linger o'er the lines I write to-day,
May he, who wept for Babylonia's fall,
Look kindly at this "writing on the wall"!

Arthur Macy

Arthur Macy was an American poet known for his contributions during the 19th century. Born on June 6, 1842, he became widely recognized for his poignant and evocative verses, which often reflected themes of nature and human emotion. His poetry gained considerable respect and admiration during his lifetime. He passed away on June 1, 1904.

Arthur Macy

The Indifferent Mariner

Arthur Macy, Simple Poetry

Valentines From An Inconstant-Constant

Arthur Macy, Simple Poetry

Valentines From An Uncertain Marksman

Arthur Macy, Simple Poetry

Thistle-Down

Arthur Macy, Simple Poetry

English

Suggested Poems

Explore a curated selection of verses that share themes, styles, and emotional resonance with the poem you've just read.

At Twilight Time

At twilight time when tolls the chime,
    And saddest notes are falling,
A lonely bird with plaintive word
    Across the dusk is calling.
Vain doth it wait for one dear mate,
    That ne'er shall know the morrow;
Then sinks to rest with drooping crest
    In one long dream of sorrow.

Dearest, when night is here,
    To thee I'm calling,
Sadly as tear on tear
    Is slowly falling,
Oh, fold me near, more near -
    In love enthralling!
Here on thy breast,
    While life shall last,
With thee I stay.
    Here will I rest
Till night is past,
    And comes the day!

Arthur Macy

The Old Cafe

You know,
Don't you, Joe,
Those merry evenings long ago?
You know the room, the narrow stair,
The wreaths of smoke that circled there,
The corner table where we sat
For hours in after-dinner chat,
And magnified
Our little world inside.
You know,
Don't you, Joe?

Ah, those nights divine!
The simple, frugal wine,
The airs on crude Italian strings,
The joyous, harmless revelings,
Just fit for us - or kings!
At times a quaint and wickered flask
Of rare Chianti, or from the homelier cask
Of modest Pilsener a stein or so,
Amid the merry talk would flow;
Or red Bordeaux
From vines that grew where dear Montaigne
Held his domain.
And you remember that dark eye,
None too shy;
In fact, she seemed a bit too free
For y...

Arthur Macy

My Masterpiece

I wrote the truest, tend'rest song
    The world had ever heard;
And clear, melodious, and strong,
    And sweet was every word.
The flowing numbers came to me
    Unbidden from the heart;
So pure the strain, that poesy
    Seemed something more than art.

No doubtful cadence marred a line,
    So tunefully it flowed,
And through the measure, all divine
    The fire of genius glowed.
So deftly were the verses wrought,
    So fair the legend told,
That every word revealed a thought,
    And every thought was gold.

Mine was the charm, the power, the skill,
    The wisdom of the years;
'Twas mine to move the world at will
    To laughter or to tears.
For subtile pleasantry was there,
    And brilliant flash of wit;
Now, pl...

Arthur Macy

All On A Golden Summer Day

All on a golden summer day,
As through the leaves a single ray
Of yellow sunshine finds its way
            So bright, so bright;
The wakened birds that blithely sing
Seem welcoming another spring;
While all the woods are murmuring
            So light, so light.

All on a golden summer day,
When to my heart a single ray
Of tender kindness finds its way,
            So bright, so bright;
Then comes sweet hope and bravely dares
To break the chain that sorrow wears -
And all my burdens, all my cares
            Are light, so light!

Arthur Macy

Disenchantment

Time and I have fallen out;
We, who were such steadfast friends.
So slowly has it come about
That none may tell when it began;
Yet sure am I a cunning plan
Runs through it all;
And now, beyond recall,
Our friendship ends,
And ending, there remains to me
The memory of disloyalty.

Long years ago Time tripping came
With promise grand,
And sweet assurances of fame;
And hand in hand
Through fairy-land
Went he and I together
In bright and golden weather.
Then, then I had not learned to doubt,
For friends were gods, and faith was sure,
And words were truth, and deeds were pure,
Before we had our falling out;
And life, all hope, was fair to see,
When Time made promise sweet to me.

When first my faithless friend grew cold<...

Arthur Macy

At Marliave's

At Marliave's when eventide
Finds rare companions at my side,
    The laughter of each merry guest
    At quaint conceit, or kindly jest,
Makes golden moments swiftly glide.
No voice unkind our faults to chide,
Our smallest virtue magnified;
    And friendly hand to hand is pressed
                        At Marliave's.

I lay my years and cares aside
Accepting what the gods provide,
    I ask not for a lot more blest,
    Nor do I crave a sweeter rest
Than that which comes with eventide
                        At Marliave's.

Arthur Macy