By my Window have I for Scenery Just a Sea with a Stem If the Bird and the Farmer deem it a “Pine” The Opinion will serve for them It has no Port, nor
I’m the little “Heart’s Ease”! I don’t care for pouting skies! If the Butterfly delay Can I, therefore, stay away? If the Coward Bumble Bee In his chimney corner stay, I, must resoluter be!
By a departing light We see acuter, quite, Than by a wick that stays. There’s something in the flight That clarifies the sight And decks the rays.
My life closed twice before its close It yet remains to see If Immortality unveil A third event to me So huge, so hopeless to conceive As these that twice befell. Parting is all
Elysium is as far as to The very nearest Room If in that Room a Friend await Felicity or Doom What fortitude the Soul contains, That it can so endure The accent of a
The Martyr Poets did not tell But wrought their Pang in syllable That when their mortal name be numb Their mortal fate encourage Some The Martyr Painters never spoke Bequeathing rather to their Work
I’ll clutch and clutch Next One Might be the golden touch Could take it Diamonds Wait I’m diving just a little late But stars go slow for night I’ll string you in fine Necklace
Of Course I prayed And did God Care? He cared as much as on the Air A Bird had stamped her foot And cried “Give Me” My Reason Life I had not had but
It would not know if it were spurned, This gallant little flower How therefore safe to be a flower If one would tamper there. To enter, it would not aspire But may it not
‘Tis Sunrise Little Maid Hast Thou No Station in the Day? ‘Twas not thy wont, to hinder so Retrieve thine industry ‘Tis Noon My little Maid Alas and art thou sleeping yet? The Lily
Immortal is an ample word When what we need is by But when it leaves us for a time ‘Tis a necessity. Of Heaven above the firmest proof We fundamental know Except for its
‘Twas fighting for his Life he was That sort accomplish well The Ordnance of Vitality Is frugal of its Ball. It aims once kills once conquers once There is no second War In that
The Guest is gold and crimson An Opal guest and gray Of Ermine is his doublet His Capuchin gay He reaches town at nightfall He stops at every door Who looks for him at
Delight is as the flight Or in the Ratio of it, As the Schools would say The Rainbow’s way A Skein Flung colored, after Rain, Would suit as bright, Except that flight Were Aliment
I’m “wife” I’ve finished that That other state I’m Czar I’m “Woman” now It’s safer so How odd the Girl’s life looks Behind this soft Eclipse I think that Earth feels so To folks