We shun it ere it comes
We shun it ere it comes, Afraid of Joy, Then sue it to delay And lest it fly, Beguile it more and more May not this be Old Suitor Heaven, Like our dismay at
Don't put up my Thread and Needle
Don’t put up my Thread and Needle I’ll begin to Sew When the Birds begin to whistle Better Stitches so These were bent my sight got crooked When my mind is plain I’ll do
Now I knew I lost her
Now I knew I lost her Not that she was gone But Remoteness travelled On her Face and Tongue. Alien, though adjoining As a Foreign Race Traversed she though pausing Latitudeless Place. Elements Unaltered
Like Flowers, that heard the news of Dews
Like Flowers, that heard the news of Dews, But never deemed the dripping prize Awaited their low Brows Or Bees that thought the Summer’s name Some rumor of Delirium, No Summer could for Them
Forget! The lady with the Amulet
Forget! The lady with the Amulet Forget she wore it at her Heart Because she breathed against Was Treason twixt? Deny! Did Rose her Bee For Privilege of Play Or Wile of Butterfly Or
I dreaded that first Robin, so
I dreaded that first Robin, so, But He is mastered, now, I’m accustomed to Him grown, He hurts a little, though I thought If I could only live Till that first Shout got by
Our little secrets slink away
Our little secrets slink away Beside God’s shall not tell He kept his word a Trillion years And might we not as well But for the niggardly delight To make each other stare Is
"Lethe" in my flower
“Lethe” in my flower, Of which they who drink In the fadeless orchards Hear the bobolink! Merely flake or petal As the Eye beholds Jupiter! my father! I perceive the rose!
Eden is that old-fashioned House
Eden is that old-fashioned House We dwell in every day Without suspecting our abode Until we drive away. How fair on looking back, the Day We sauntered from the Door Unconscious our returning, But
The sweetest Heresy received
The sweetest Heresy received That Man and Woman know Each Other’s Convert Though the Faith accommodate but Two The Churches are so frequent The Ritual so small The Grace so unavoidable To fail is
I live with Him I see His face
I live with Him I see His face I go no more away For Visitor or Sundown Death’s single privacy The Only One forestalling Mine And that by Right that He Presents a Claim
Going to Heaven!
Going to Heaven! I don’t know when Pray do not ask me how! Indeed I’m too astonished To think of answering you! Going to Heaven! How dim it sounds! And yet it will be
Go slow, my soul, to feed thyself
Go slow, my soul, to feed thyself Upon his rare approach Go rapid, lest Competing Death Prevail upon the Coach Go timid, should his final eye Determine thee amiss Go boldly for thou paid’st
As if I asked a common Alms
As if I asked a common Alms, And in my wondering hand A Stranger pressed a Kingdom, And I, bewildered, stand As if I asked the Orient Had it for me a Morn And
How Human Nature dotes
How Human Nature dotes On what it can’t detect. The moment that a Plot is plumbed Prospective is extinct Prospective is the friend Reserved for us to know When Constancy is clarified Of Curiosity