Poems of J. William Lloyd

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  • “Stephen Pearl Andrews,” Fair Play 1 no. 30 (January 5, 1889): 1.
  • “Moses Harman,” Liberty 7 no. 2 (April 24, 1890): 1.
  • “Third Avatar of Woman,” Our New Humanity 1 no. 1 (September 1895): 64.
  • “A Grandeur and a Dreaming,” The Whim 2 no. 2 (September 1901): 110.
  • “Written at Walt Whitman’s Grave” The Conservator 13 no. 11 (January, 1903): 165.
  • “An Ocean Prayer,” Free Society 10 no. 23 (June 7, 1903): 1.
  • “Storm-Glass,” The New Review 1 (February 8, 1913): 188.
  • “The Keen of the Cold,” The New Review 1 (March 15, 1913): 350.
  • “The Spill-Way of the Morning Moon,” The New Review 1 (): 409.
  • “After the Ice-Storm,” The New Review 1 (April 12, 1913) 474.
  • “To Francisco Ferrer,”
  • “My Arizona Bedroom,” Robinson, Will H. 1867-1938. Yarns of the Southwest Phoenix, Ariz., The Berryhill company [c1921] 85-86.
  • “The Hospital at Night,” in The Doctor’s Window; poems by the doctor, for the doctor, and about the doctor; ed. by Ina Russelle Warren, Buffalo, New York : C. W. Moulton, 1898. p. 249.

Stephen Pearl Andrews.

Great light of Liberty,
And hast thou left us by thy flick’ring out
To wander rayless, darkling, like lost stars
Amid this world of fool-ruled, fear-forced slaves?
Nay, rather have thy truth-bright rays, afar
Scattering spark-like from thy fall, ignit
Ten thousand flameless torches. These, flameless now
No more, but lurid, flashing, floating out,
Shall with a sudden force dispread their heat,
Kindling myriad watch-fires blazing high,
All to illume this death-dark orb of fear,
That needs but cloud-dispelling light and fire
To make it warm as heaven.

Great husbandman and host
Of universal truth! We who are heirs
Of those vast barns, high ricks, wide cribs, deep bins,
That held preserved from waste thy garnered store
Drawn from the world-wide acres of thy tilth,
Shall find in them our wealth to purchase way
To truth of trial and problems world-core deep;
From such sound grain the crushing mills of thought,
And over heat of human passion force,
Shall ceaseless grind and bake the bread of life,
Feeding the coming man.

J. Wm. Lloyd, in Truth Seeker.

J. Wm. Lloyd, “Stephen Pearl Andrews,” Fair Play 1 no. 30 (January 5, 1889): 1.

Moses Harman.

A proud thing this, that these mine ears have heard—
A friend of mine, a simple childlike man,
Hath been elected from us all, by ban,
To speak by gags the never silent word,
To write with shattered pen a truth to gird
Up freemen’s loins till swiftly they have ran
And told the Earth and Tyranny turns wan
At quick white fire, in fettered hearts upstirred.
A proud thing this, indeed, O friend of mine,
That blows, barren of force to beat thee back,
Should drive thee on a million miles upon
Thy destined course. Because thou art supine.
These fools forget that now themselves, alack?
Uphold thy bannered legend to the sun.

J. William Lloyd, “Moses Harman,” Liberty 7, no. 2 (April 24, 1890): 1.

Written at Walt Whitman’s Grave.

In the sweet stillness of the winter morn,
Beneath the wan limbed beech,
Before thy tomb, I stood, O Walt—
Tomb of a Christ.
And all the world and sky, like thee, were gray;
And all the earth and trees were white with silent snow:
Heart of the universe! beneath thy granite stone, sleep well!
Peace, Walt, forever peace! So long!

The Hospital at Night

Roosevelt, Midnight, April 8th, 1889

I set within the long dim ward at night;

Around me silent beds or snores or groans —
Ah! List that prayer with anguish In Its tones:

“O God, God, God! How soon will it be light!”
Kape sthill! An’ let us shlape. Oi think yees moight!”-

A boy asleep, who smiles, (with broken bones)
Dreaming of mother or some playground sight.

Without, thick darkness and a wind that moans.
A rattling breath, a gasp, a still, white stare,

A nurse’s jest: “Discharged—tie up the jaw,

A label on the wrist to save mistakes,”
The tramp of dead-house men of heedless air.

Two lines of lifted faces full of awe—

A sickened sot, that cot tomorrow shakes.

—J. William Lloyd.

Ina Russelle Warren, ed., The Doctor’s Window, (Buffalo, NY: Charles Wells Moulton, 1898): 249.

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Third Avatar of Woman.

O beautiful Mould of Man, thrice born, made free,
First flesh, soul next, and third, and now, a mind,
Full-bloom of sense and heart with thought refined—
‘Tis thine, now, with thy brother equally
To join, or fairly fight for victory;
Jealous of heart and sex and brain thine own
To stand in gracious dignity, alone,
And lack no whit of human majesty
Which consciousness of Self fulfilled can give
To one who life untrammeled wills to live.
Defeat forever falls upon mistake,
Life has but one great lesson learned at length,
The weak who yield are worse than strong, who take.
Strength is the all of virtue, and to know is strength.

J. William Lloyd, “Third Avatar of Woman,” Our New Humanity 1, no. 1 (September 1895): 64.

A Grandeur & A Dreaming.

Human Life seems but a seeming,
A phantasm & a dreaming,
Of a grandeur & a gleaming
That no one life may possess.

‘Tis a downward, dark ward groping,
Upward soaring, high and hoping
Search for pathways, easy-sloping,
That no human feet yet press.

Yet it may be that the glory,
Dreamed of now since ages hoary,
Kindling still in song and story,
Each man somewhat, all men know.

All the downward, dark ward groping,
All the sky-ward, sunward hoping,
Finds at last the roadway sloping,
Where all feet together go.

J Wm. Lloyd.

J. William Lloyd, “A Grandeur and a Dreaming,” The Whim 2, no. 2 (September 1901): 110.

An Ocean Prayer.

I pray to the Ocean, salt and grand,
To send me a woman to mate my mind,
To be my sea as I her land,
A world together with heaven to bind.

An ocean-woman of kindred thought,
With brain-waves beating with mine in rhyme,
And a Gulf-Stream heart of love, full-fraught,
Glowing to warm my mental clime.

Bathing my coasts in a beautiful sea,
Cleansing, caressing, cheering me on,
With deep proud tides of sympathy
For the work I do, that I have done.

A woman indeed, whose sea-like soul
Flows ’round the world in a wide embrace,
With great-heart billows that break and roll
On every shore of the human race.

Whose generous stream holds every keel,
And mirrors the glory of every sky,
Whose depths go down to think and feel
As deep as my peaks rise heavenward high.

O beautiful Ocean, salt and strong,
Mother and lover of every shore,
Send me this woman for whom I long,
That my lonely brain may thirst no more.

J. William Lloyd.

J. William Lloyd, “An Ocean Prayer,” Free Society 10, no. 23 (June 7, 1903): 1.

My Arizona Bedroom.

O my Arizona bedroom
Is beneath the Milky Way,
And the moon is in its ceiling,
And the stars that tell of day,
And the mountains lift the corners
And the desert lays the floor
Of my Arizona bedroom,
Which is large as all outdoor.

O my Arizona bedroom
Is ventilated right,
Every wind that’s under heaven
Comes to me with blithe good-night,
Comes to me with touch of blessing
And of ozone one drink more,
In my Arizona bedroom,
Which is large as all outdoor.

O my Arizona bedroom
Has the lightning on its wall,
And the thunders rap the panels
And their heavy voices call;
And the night birds wing above me
And the owl hoots galore
Through my Arizona bedroom
Which is large as all outdoor.

O my Arizona bedstead,
It sometimes seems to me,
Is afloat in middle heaven
With each star an argosy:
And the tide that turns at midnight
Drifts us down to morning’s shore
Floats us, stars and bed and bedstead,
On the ocean of outdoor.

O my Arizona bedroom
Is beneath the splendid stars,
And the clouds roll up the curtains
And the windows have no bars,
And I see my God in heaven
As the ancients did of yore,
In my Arizona bedroom
Which is large as all outdoor.


About Shawn P. Wilbur 2703 Articles
Independent scholar, translator and archivist.