A soft Sea washed around the House A Sea of Summer Air And rose and fell the magic Planks That sailed without a care For Captain was the Butterfly For Helmsman was the Bee
Mute thy Coronation Meek my Vive le roi, Fold a tiny courtier In thine Ermine, Sir, There to rest revering Till the pageant by, I can murmur broken, Master, It was I
What mystery pervades a well! That water lives so far A neighbor from another world Residing in a jar Whose limit none have ever seen, But just his lid of glass Like looking every
When I count the seeds That are sown beneath, To bloom so, bye and bye When I con the people Lain so low, To be received as high When I believe the garden Mortal
I felt a Funeral, in my Brain, And Mourners to and fro Kept treading treading till it seemed That Sense was breaking through And when they all were seated, A Service, like a Drum
Removed from Accident of Loss By Accident of Gain Befalling not my simple Days Myself had just to earn Of Riches as unconscious As is the Brown Malay Of Pearls in Eastern Waters, Marked
Before I got my eye put out I liked as well to see As other Creatures, that have Eyes And know no other way But were it told to me Today That I might
Which is best? Heaven Or only Heaven to come With that old Codicil of Doubt? I cannot help esteem The “Bird within the Hand” Superior to the one The “Bush” may yield me Or
The power to be true to You, Until upon my face The Judgment push his Picture Presumptuous of Your Place Of This Could Man deprive Me Himself the Heaven excel Whose invitation Yours reduced
I took my power in my hand And went AGAINST the world ‘Twas not so much as David had But I was twice as bold I aimed by pebble, but myself Was ALL the
Consulting summer’s clock, But half the hours remain. I ascertain it with a shock I shall not look again. The second half of joy Is shorter than the first. The truth I do not
You see I cannot see your lifetime I must guess How many times it ache for me today Confess How many times for my far sake The brave eyes film But I guess guessing
High from the earth I heard a bird, He trod upon the trees As he esteemed them trifles, And then he spied a breeze, And situated softly Upon a pile of wind Which in
The harm of Years is on him The infamy of Time Depose him like a Fashion And give Dominion room. Forget his Morning Forces The Glory of Decay Is a minuter Pageant Than least
Bees are Black, with Gilt Surcingles Buccaneers of Buzz. Ride abroad in ostentation And subsist on Fuzz. Fuzz ordained not Fuzz contingent Marrows of the Hill. Jugs a Universe’s fracture Could not jar or