The Birds reported from the South
The Birds reported from the South A News express to Me A spicy Charge, My little Posts But I am deaf Today The Flowers appealed a timid Throng I reinforced the Door Go blossom
A narrow Fellow in the Grass
A narrow Fellow in the Grass Occasionally rides You may have met Him did you not His notice sudden is The Grass divides as with a Comb A spotted shaft is seen And then
Beauty be not caused It Is
Beauty be not caused It Is Chase it, and it ceases Chase it not, and it abides Overtake the Creases In the Meadow when the Wind Runs his fingers thro’ it Deity will see
He was weak, and I was strong then
He was weak, and I was strong then So He let me lead him in I was weak, and He was strong then So I let him lead me Home. ‘Twasn’t far the door
Tho' I get home how late how late
Tho’ I get home how late how late So I get home – ’twill compensate Better will be the Ecstasy That they have done expecting me When Night descending dumb and dark They hear
To my small Hearth His fire came
To my small Hearth His fire came And all my House aglow Did fan and rock, with sudden light ‘Twas Sunrise ’twas the Sky Impanelled from no Summer brief With limit of Decay ‘Twas
Alone, I cannot be
Alone, I cannot be For Hosts do visit me Recordless Company Who baffle Key They have no Robes, nor Names No Almanacs nor Climes But general Homes Like Gnomes Their Coming, may be known
His Bill is clasped his Eye forsook
His Bill is clasped his Eye forsook His Feathers wilted low The Claws that clung, like lifeless Gloves Indifferent hanging now The Joy that in his happy Throat Was waiting to be poured Gored
It feels a shame to be Alive
It feels a shame to be Alive When Men so brave are dead One envies the Distinguished Dust Permitted such a Head The Stone that tells defending Whom This Spartan put away What little
Poor little Heart!
Poor little Heart! Did they forget thee? Then dinna care! Then dinna care! Proud little Heart! Did they forsake thee? Be debonnaire! Be debonnaire! Frail little Heart! I would not break thee Could’st credit
All Circumstances are the Frame
All Circumstances are the Frame In which His Face is set All Latitudes exist for His Sufficient Continent The Light His Action, and the Dark The Leisure of His Will In Him Existence serve
Wonder is not precisely Knowing
Wonder is not precisely Knowing And not precisely Knowing not A beautiful but bleak condition He has not lived who has not felt Suspense is his maturer Sister Whether Adult Delight is Pain Or
Many a phrase has the English language
Many a phrase has the English language I have heard but one Low as the laughter of the Cricket, Loud, as the Thunder’s Tongue Murmuring, like old Caspian Choirs, When the Tide’s a’ lull
The Face in evanescence lain
The Face in evanescence lain Is more distinct than ours And ours surrendered for its sake As Capsules are for Flower’s Or is it the confiding sheen Dissenting to enamor us Of Detriment divine?
Belshazzar had a Letter
Belshazzar had a Letter He never had but one Belshazzar’s Correspondent Concluded and begun In that immortal Copy The Conscience of us all Can read without its Glasses On Revelation’s Wall