To M. E.

We keep in step as years roll by;
    You march behind and I before: -
The path is new to you; but I
    Have passed the ground you're walking o'er.
Yet I march on with measured tread,
    And looking back, I smile and greet you: -
I fear the order, "Halt!" Instead,
    Would I might countermarch and meet you.

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

Love

Arthur Macy, Simple Poetry

Euthanasia

Arthur Macy, Simple Poetry

Susan Scuppernong

Arthur Macy, Simple Poetry

The Gurgling Imps

Arthur Macy, Simple Poetry

English

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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;
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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

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

Here And There

Sweet Phyllis went a-rambling here and there,
            Here and there.
Her eyes were blue and golden was her hair.
    She said, "Oh, life is strange;
    I'm sure I need a change;
'Tis sad for one to ramble here and there,
            Here and there."

Young Strephon went a-rambling here and there,
            Here and there.
He sighed, "It needs but two to make a pair.
    If I should meet a maid
    Not in the least afraid,
How happy we'd go rambling here and there,
            Here and there."

As youth and maid went rambling here and there,
            Here and there,
They met, and loved at sight, for both were fair;
    And neither youth nor maid
    Was in the least afraid,
And hand in hand they ramble here and there,<...

Arthur Macy

To M.

Sweet visions came to me in sleep,
    Ah! wondrous fair to see;
And in my mind I strove to keep
    The dream to tell to thee.

But morning broke with golden gleam,
    And shone upon thy face,
And life was lovelier than a dream,
    And dreams had lost their grace.

Arthur Macy