Song.

Red gleams the mountain ridge,
    Slow the stream creeps
Under the old bent bridge,
    And labor sleeps.

There are no restless birds,
    No leaves that stir,
Dusk her gray mantle girds,
    Night's harbinger.

The storm-soul's change and start
    Pause, lull, and cease;
In my unquiet heart
    Is born a peace.

Sophie M. (Almon) Hensley

No biography available

Sophie M. (Almon) Hensley

Loneliness.

Sophie M. (Almon) Hensley, Simple Poetry

Battle Song.

Sophie M. (Almon) Hensley, Simple Poetry

Incompleteness.

Sophie M. (Almon) Hensley, Simple Poetry

Doubt.

Sophie M. (Almon) Hensley, 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.

Song

Where is the waiting-time?
    Where are the fears?
Gone with the winter's rime,
    The bygone years.

O'er life's plain, lone and vast,
    Slow treads the morn,
Night shades have moved and passed,
    Joy's day is born.

Sophie M. (Almon) Hensley

A Song of Dawn.

In the east a lightening;
Where the woods are chill
Moves an unseen finger,
Wakes a sudden thrill;

In my soul a glimmer,
Hush! no words are heard!
In heart-ambush hidden
Chirrup of a bird;

Tremble heart and forest
Like a frightened fawn,
Gleam the distant tree-tops,
Hither comes the dawn!

Sophie M. (Almon) Hensley

Song.

Deep in the green bracken lying,
    Close by the welcoming sea,
Dream I, and let all my dreaming
    Drift as it will, Love, to thee.

Sated with splendid caresses
    Showered by the sun in his pride,
Scorched by his passionate kisses
    Languidly ebbs the tide.

Sophie M. (Almon) Hensley

Shadow Song.

The night is long
    And there are no stars, -
        Let me but dream
        That the long fields gleam
With sunlight and song,
Then I shall not long
    For the light of stars.

Let me but dream, -
    For there are no stars, -
        Dream that the ache
        And the wild heart-break
Are but things that seem.
Ah! let me dream
    For there are no stars.

Sophie M. (Almon) Hensley

Song.

Low laughed the Columbine,
Trembled her petals fine
    As the breeze blew;
In her dove-heart there stirred
Murmurs the dull bee heard,
And Love, Life's wild white bird,
    Straightway she knew.

Resting her lilac cheek
Gently, in aspect meek,
    On the gray stone,
The morning-glory, free,
Welcomed the yellow bee,

Heard the near-rolling sea
    Murmur and moan.

Calm lay the tawny sand
Stretching a long wet hand
    To the far wave.
Swift to her warm waiting breast
Longing to be possessed
Leaps 'neath his billowy crest
    Her Lover brave.

Sophie M. (Almon) Hensley

Weariness.

This April sun has wakened into cheer
    The wintry paths of thought, and tinged with gold
    These threadbare leaves of fancy brown and old.
This is for us the wakening of the year
    And May's sweet breath will draw the waiting soul
    To where in distance lies the longed-for goal.

The summer life will still all questioning,
    The leaves will whisper peace, and calm will be
    The wild, vast, blue, illimitable sea.
And we shall hush our murmurings, and bring
    To Nature, green below and blue above,
    A whole life's worshipping, a whole life's love.

We will not speak of sometime fretting fears,
    We will not think of aught that may arise
    In future hours to cloud our golden skies.
Some souls there are who love their woes and tears,

Sophie M. (Almon) Hensley