22 Nixon Waterman Poems

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Born November 12, 1859, in Newark, Illinois, Nixon Waterman wrote many inspiring poems. Many of his poems were turned into songs, Waterman was also a newspaperman and through that experience, he saw many of life's issues which he expressed in poetry. He died on September 1, 1944.

We hope you find inspiration and encouragement from his words.

Nixon Waterman
Nixon Waterman






Favorite Poems by Nixon Waterman


Popular Nixon Waterman Short Poems:

  1. A Rose To The Living
    Poet: Nixon Waterman

    A rose to the living is more
    Than sumptuous wreaths to the dead;
    In filling love's infinite store,
    A rose to the living is more,
    If graciously given before
    The hungering spirit is fled, -
    A rose to the living is more
    Than sumptuous wreaths to the dead.



  2. Which Road?
    Poet: Nixon Waterman

    If you could go back to the forks of the road,
    Back the long miles you have carried the load;
    Back to the place where you had to decide
    By this way or that through your life to abide;
    Back of the grieving and back of the care,
    Back to the place where the future was fair, -
    If you were this day that decision to make,
    O brother in sorrow! which road would you take?

    Then suppose that again to the forks you went back,
    After you'd trodden the other long track;
    After you'd found t^at its promises fair
    Were all a delusion that led to a snare, -
    That the road you first travelled with sighs and unrest,
    Though dreary and rough, was most graciously blest,
    With balm for each bruise and a charm for each ache, -
    O brother in sorrow! which road would you take?



  3. A Middle-Aged Love Story
    Poet: Nixon Waterman

    With every tick of the clock, my dear,
    The days go singing by.
    And the skies are blue and our hearts are true,
    And there's love in your laughing eye.
    And never you care if the silver hair
    Steals into each golden lock,
    For your heart must know you dearer grow
    With every tick of the clock.

    With every tick of the clock, my dear.
    We drift from the shores of youth.
    And we swifter glide on the broader tide
    Of the grander sea of truth.
    The flight of time but smoothes to rhyme
    Life's every grief and shock.
    And we nearer grow in love's glad glow
    With every tick of the clock.



  4. The Year's Delights
    Poet: Nixon Waterman

    When the days are chill and the winds are shrill
    And the snow-wreaths crown the earth.
    Then the kind fates lend a book and a friend
    And a seat by the glowing hearth.
    And the hoarse, deep shout of the storm without,
    And the Frost's breath keen and thin,
    Add cheer and grace to the firelit face
    Of the friend and the book within.

    When the wild-bird calls, then away with walls
    For the fields and the open sky!
    For the land and sea are a home for me.
    And the big world, broad and high.
    Then I find my books in the running brooks.
    And my friends by the wave-washed shores.
    Where we glean and grow in the glint and glow
    Of the boundless out-of-doors.



  5. Toward Sunset
    Poet: Nixon Waterman

    Oh, come, my lore, and walk with me
    Through the orchard's leafy ways.
    And hear the song of bird and bee
    We heard in other days.
    When all the world was good and kind
    When hearts were warm and true
    And the narrowest path our feet could find
    Was wide enough for two.

    Once more we'll keep a loving tryst
    Beneath the bending boughs.
    Where first your trembling lips were kissed,
    And first we breathed our vows.
    There where with beating heart you came
    To greet me at the bars,
    And, waiting, I would speak your name.
    And spell it in the stars.

    Time sprinkles frost upon our heads,
    But love's eternal youth
    Dwells in each happy breast and sheds
    The beauty born of truth.
    And heart to heart and lip to lip
    We'll breathe our vows divine,
    Till in the last long sleep you slip
    Your loving hand in mine.



  6. Memories
    Poet: Nixon Waterman

    If you've ever been a rover
    Through the fields of fragrant clover.
    Where life is all a simple round of bliss.
    When at eve the sun is sinking
    Or the stars are faintly blinking,
    You can call to mind a picture such as this:
    Hark ! the cows are homeward roaming
    Through the pasture's dewy gloaming,
    I can hear them gently lowing through the dells,
    While from out the bosky dingle
    Come the softly tangled jingle
    And the oft-repeated echo of the bells.

    Strange how Memory will fling her
    Arms about some scenes we bring her,
    And the fleeting years but make them fonder grow;
    Though I wander far and sadly
    From that dear old home, how gladly
    I recall the cherished scenes of long ago.
    Hark ! the cows are homeward roaming
    Through the pasture's dewy gloaming,
    I can hear them gently lowing through the dells,
    While from out the bosky dingle
    Come the softly tangled jingle
    And the oft-repeated echo of the bells.



  7. Dr. Goodcheer's Remedy
    Poet: Nixon Waterman

    Feel all out of kilter, do you?
    Nothing goes to suit you quite?
    Skies seem sort of dark and clouded.
    Though the day is fair and bright?
    Eyes affected, fail to notice
    Beauty spread on every hand?
    Hearing so impaired you've missing
    Songs of promise, sweet and grand?

    No! your case is not uncommon -
    Tis a popular distress:
    Though 'tis not at all contagious.
    Thousands have it more or less.
    But it yields to simple treatment.
    And is easy quite to cure;
    If you follow my directions.
    Quick recovery is sure.

    Take a bit of cheerful thinking
    Add a portion of content.
    And with both let glad endeavor.
    Mixed with earnestness, be blent:
    These, with care and skill compounded
    Will produce a magic oil
    That is bound to cure, if taken
    With a lot of honest toil.

    If your heart is dull and heavy;
    If your hope is pale with doubt:
    Try this wondrous Oil of Promise.
    For 'twill drive the evil out.
    Who will mix it? Not the druggist
    From the bottles on his shelf;
    The ingredients required
    You must find within yourself.



  8. A Robin's Song At Daybreak
    Poet: Nixon Waterman

    Half-way between the dark and dawn,
    Ere day had come or night had gone;
    Somewhere between the bliss of dreams and dread of waking wearily,
    Still half unconscious that I heard.
    There came the far, faint voice of bird.
    The welcome daybreak greeting of a robin singing cheerily.

    The song seemed like a ribbon slight
    Drawn 'tween the realms of day and night,
    And as I listened to the notes my heart went beating merrily;
    Would that the world on waking from
    Its dreams to toil might ever come.
    Joyed by the daybreak welcome of a robin singing cheerily.



  9. Bitter-Sweet
    Poet: Nixon Waterman

    Just a few tears sprinkled in with our laughter,
    Just a few clouds in the blue of the sky;
    Showers make brighter the shine that comes after.
    Smiles are the sweeter that follow a sigh.

    Just a few griefs in the midst of our gladness.
    Only for toil there could never be rest.
    Songs we love most hold a shadow of sadness,
    Joys that are touched with a sorrow are best.

    Just a few graves in a land of the living,
    Just a few moans in the midst of our mirth.
    Just a few wrongs and the bliss of forgiving
    Bring the heart glimpses of heaven on earth.


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