G. K. Chesterton Poems
Who Goes Home?
In the city set upon slime and loam
They cry in their parliament 'Who goes home?'
And there comes no answer in arch or dome,
For none in the city of graves goes home.
Yet these shall perish... more
Poet: G. K. Chesterton rating:  The Song Of The Strange Ascetic
If I had been a Heathen,
I'd have praised the purple vine,
My slaves should dig the vineyards,
And I would drink the wine.
But Higgins is a Heathen,
And his slaves grow lean and grey,
That he... more
Poet: G. K. Chesterton rating:
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