Tithonus By Alan Seeger

    So when the verdure of his life was shed,    With all the grace of ripened manlihead,    And on his locks, but now so lovable,    Old age like desolating winter fell,    Leaving them white and flowerless and forlorn:    Then from his bed the Goddess of the Morn    Softly withheld, yet cherished him no less    With pious works of pitying tenderness;    Till when at length…

The Wanderer By Alan Seeger

    To see the clouds his spirit yearned toward so    Over new mountains piled and unploughed waves,    Back of old-storied spires and architraves    To watch Arcturus rise or Fomalhaut,…

The Hosts By Alan Seeger

     Purged, with the life they left, of all    That makes life paltry and mean and small,    In their new dedication charged    With something heightened, enriched, enlarged,    That lends…