She Being Young

        The home of love is her blue eyes,
        Wherein all joy, all beauty lies,
        More sweet than hopes of paradise,
                She being young.

        Speak of her with a miser's praise;
        She craves no golden speech; her ways
        Wind through charmed nights and magic days,
                She being young.

        She is so far from pain and death,
        So warm her cheek, so sweet her breath
        Glad words are all the words she saith,
                She being young.

        Seeing her face, it seems not far
        To Troy's heroic field of war,
        To Troy and all great things that are,
                She being young.

John Charles McNeill

John Charles McNeill was a prominent American poet known for his works that vividly depicted the landscapes and spirit of North Carolina. Born on July 26, 1874, in Wagram, North Carolina, he won acclaim with his book 'Songs Merry and Sad,' which won the Patterson Cup in 1905. His poetry primarily reflects rural life and Southern traditions. Sadly, McNeill's promising career was cut short when he died on October 17, 1907, at the young age of 33.

John Charles McNeill

Tommy Smith

John Charles McNeill, Simple Poetry

L'envoi

John Charles McNeill, Simple Poetry

Love's Fashion

John Charles McNeill, Simple Poetry

Lines

John Charles McNeill, Simple Poetry

English

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        The thought of old, dear things is in thine eyes,
        O, month of memories!
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Youth and Age

Verse, a breeze 'mid blossoms straying,
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When I was young? - Ah, woeful When!
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That ask no aid of sail or oar,
That fear no spite of wind or tide!
Nought cared this body for wind or weather
When Youth and I lived in't together.

Flowers are lovely; Love is flower-like;
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Though young no more, we still would dream
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Who knows a woman's wild caprice?
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When sixty bids us sigh in vain
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Tranced in her lord's Olympian smile
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Sweet empty sky of June without a stain,
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Weeds delicate-flowered, white and pink and gold,
A murmur and a singing manifold.


The gray, austere old earth renews her youth
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On such a golden morning forth there floats,
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Youthful Fancies.

The morning of a gladsome day in spring
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It seem'd as if he buried there, also,
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And yet he was no careless, heedless boy,
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