abroad - Popular Poems and stories from category

To Andrew
Paris,
November
Their faces are bony and sharp but very red, althoughtheir ancestors nearly two hundred years have dweltby the miasmal banks of tidewaters where malarial fevermakes men gaunt and dosing with quinine shakes ...

I
Oh, to be in
Now that April's there,
And whoever wakes in

Far-fetched with tales of other worlds and ways,
My skin well-oiled with wines of the Levant,
I set my face into a filial smile To greet the pale, domestic kiss of Kent
But shall I never learn