On this long storm the Rainbow rose
On this long storm the Rainbow rose On this late Morn the Sun The clouds like listless Elephants Horizons straggled down The Birds rose smiling, in their nests The gales indeed were done Alas,
Musicians wrestle everywhere
Musicians wrestle everywhere All day among the crowded air I hear the silver strife And walking long before the morn Such transport breaks upon the town I think it that “New Life”! If is
I fear a Man of frugal Speech
I fear a Man of frugal Speech I fear a Silent Man Haranguer I can overtake Or Babbler entertain But He who weigheth While the Rest Expend their furthest pound Of this Man I
He parts Himself like Leaves
He parts Himself like Leaves And then He closes up Then stands upon the Bonnet Of Any Buttercup And then He runs against And oversets a Rose And then does Nothing Then away upon
Wild Nights Wild Nights!
Wild Nights Wild Nights! Were I with thee Wild Nights should be Our luxury! Futile the Winds To a Heart in port Done with the Compass Done with the Chart! Rowing in Eden Ah,
If I shouldn't be alive
If I shouldn’t be alive When the Robins come, Give the one in Red Cravat, A Memorial crumb. If I couldn’t thank you, Being fast asleep, You will know I’m trying Why my Granite
Heart, not so heavy as mine
Heart, not so heavy as mine Wending late home As it passed my window Whistled itself a tune A careless snatch a ballad A ditty of the street Yet to my irritated Ear An
I know of people in the Grave
I know of people in the Grave Who would be very glad To know the news I know tonight If they the chance had had. ‘Tis this expands the least event And swells the
I have never seen "Volcanoes"
I have never seen “Volcanoes” But, when Travellers tell How those old phlegmatic mountains Usually so still Bear within appalling Ordnance, Fire, and smoke, and gun, Taking Villages for breakfast, And appalling Men If
'Tis not that Dying hurts us so
‘Tis not that Dying hurts us so ‘Tis Living hurts us more But Dying is a different way A Kind behind the Door The Southern Custom of the Bird That ere the Frosts are
Somewhere upon the general Earth
Somewhere upon the general Earth Itself exist Today The Magic passive but extant That consecrated me Indifferent Seasons doubtless play Where I for right to be Would pay each Atom that I am But
Dare you see a Soul at the White Heat?
Dare you see a Soul at the White Heat? Then crouch within the door Red is the Fire’s common tint But when the vivid Ore Has vanquished Flame’s conditions, It quivers from the Forge
Midsummer, was it, when They died
Midsummer, was it, when They died A full, and perfect time The Summer closed upon itself In Consummated Bloom The Corn, her furthest kernel filled Before the coming Flail When These leaned unto Perfectness
The Rose did caper on her cheek
The Rose did caper on her cheek Her Bodice rose and fell Her pretty speech like drunken men Did stagger pitiful Her fingers fumbled at her work Her needle would not go What ailed
That she forgot me was the least
That she forgot me was the least I felt it second pain That I was worthy to forget Was most I thought upon. Faithful was all that I could boast But Constancy became To