The Gentian weaves her fringes

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1. God made a little Gentian God made a little Gentian It tried to be a Rose And failed and all the Summer laughed But just before the Snows There rose a Purple Creature That ravished all the Hill And Summer hid her Forehead And Mockery was still The Frosts were her condition The Tyrian would not come Until the North […]...
2. The Gentian has a parched Corolla The Gentian has a parched Corolla Like azure dried ‘Tis Nature’s buoyant juices Beatified Without a vaunt or sheen As casual as Rain And as benign When most is part it comes Nor isolate it seems Its Bond its Friend To fill its Fringed career And aid an aged Year Abundant end Its lot were […]...
3. Distrustful of the Gentian Distrustful of the Gentian And just to turn away, The fluttering of her fringes Child my perfidy Weary for my I will singing go I shall not feel the sleet then I shall not fear the snow. Flees so the phantom meadow Before the breathless Bee So bubble brooks in deserts On Ears that dying […]...
4. Sister Jane WHEN Sister Jane, who had produced a child, In prayer and penance all her hours beguiled Her sister-nuns around the lattice pressed; On which the abbess thus her flock addressed: Live like our sister Jane, and bid adieu To worldly cares: have better things in view. YES, they replied, we sage like her shall be, […]...
5. No Bobolink reverse His Singing No Bobolink reverse His Singing When the only Tree Ever He minded occupying By the Farmer be Clove to the Root His Spacious Future Best Horizon gone Whose Music be His Only Anodyne Brave Bobolink...
6. To fight aloud, is very brave To fight aloud, is very brave But gallanter, I know Who charge within the bosom The Cavalry of Woe Who win, and nations do not see Who fall and none observe Whose dying eyes, no Country Regards with patriot love We trust, in plumed procession For such, the Angels go Rank after Rank, with even […]...
7. To the Fringed Gentian Thou blossom bright with autumn dew, And colored with the heaven’s own blue, That openest when the quiet light Succeeds the keen and frosty night. Thou comest not when violets lean O’er wandering brooks and springs unseen, Or columbines, in purple dressed, Nod o’er the ground-bird’s hidden nest. Thou waitest late and com’st alone, When […]...
8. A Wife at daybreak I shall be A Wife at daybreak I shall be Sunrise Hast thou a Flag for me? At Midnight, I am but a Maid, How short it takes to make a Bride Then Midnight, I have passed from thee Unto the East, and Victory Midnight Good Night! I hear them call, The Angels bustle in the Hall Softly […]...
9. The Burial of Mr. Gladstone Alas! the people now do sigh and moan For the loss of Wm. Ewart Gladstone, Who was a very great politician and a moral man, And to gainsay it there’s few people can. ‘Twas in the year of 1898, and on the 19th of May, When his soul took its flight for ever and aye, […]...
10. The feet of people walking home The feet of people walking home With gayer sandals go The Crocus til she rises The Vassal of the snow The lips at Hallelujah Long years of practise bore Til bye and bye these Bargemen Walked singing on the shore. Pearls are the Diver’s farthings Extorted from the Sea Pinions the Seraph’s wagon Pedestrian once […]...
11. Closed Gentian Distances A nothing day full of Wild beauty and the Timer pings. Roll up The silver off the bay Take down the clouds Sort the spruce and Send to laundry marked, More starch. Goodbye Golden – and silver- Rod, asters, bayberry Crisp in elegance. Little fish stream By, a river in water....
12. TO DAFFADILS Fair Daffadils, we weep to see You haste away so soon; As yet the early-rising sun Has not attain’d his noon. Stay, stay, Until the hasting day Has run But to the even-song; And, having pray’d together, we Will go with you along. We have short time to stay, as you; We have as short […]...
13. I reckon when I count it all I reckon when I count it all First Poets Then the Sun Then Summer Then the Heaven of God And then the List is done But, looking back the First so seems To Comprehend the Whole The Others look a needless Show So I write Poets All Their Summer lasts a Solid Year They can […]...
14. Crossed Threads The silken threads by viewless spinners spun, Which float so idly on the summer air, And help to make each summer morning fair, Shining like silver in the summer sun, Are caught by wayward breezes, one by one, Are blown to east and west and fastened there, Weaving on all the roads their sudden snare. […]...
15. "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!...
16. The Seraph and the Poet THE seraph sings before the manifest God-One, and in the burning of the Seven, And with the full life of consummate Heaving beneath him like a mother’s Warm with her first-born’s slumber in that The poet sings upon the earth grave-riven, Before the naughty world, soon self-forgiven For wronging him, and in the darkness prest […]...
17. The Bobolink is gone The Bobolink is gone The Rowdy of the Meadow And no one swaggers now but me The Presbyterian Birds Can now resume the Meeting He boldly interrupted that overflowing Day When supplicating mercy In a portentous way He swung upon the Decalogue And shouted let us pray...
18. Angels, in the early morning Angels, in the early morning May be seen the Dews among, Stooping plucking smiling flying Do the Buds to them belong? Angels, when the sun is hottest May be seen the sands among, Stooping plucking sighing flying Parched the flowers they bear along....
19. September 1 The golden-rod is yellow; 2 The corn is turning brown; 3 The trees in apple orchards 4 With fruit are bending down. 5 The gentian’s bluest fringes 6 Are curling in the sun; 7 In dusty pods the milkweed 8 Its hidden silk has spun. 9 The sedges flaunt their harvest, 10 In every […]...
20. Our Prayer of Thanks For the gladness here where the sun is shining at Evening on the weeds at the river, Our prayer of thanks. For the laughter of children who tumble barefooted and Bareheaded in the summer grass, Our prayer of thanks. For the sunset and the stars, the women and the white Arms that hold us, Our […]...
21. I keep my pledge I keep my pledge. I was not called Death did not notice me. I bring my Rose. I plight again, By every sainted Bee By Daisy called from hillside By Bobolink from lane. Blossom and I Her oath, and mine Will surely come again....
22. The Kiss To these I turn, in these I trust; Brother Lead and Sister Steel. To his blind power I make appeal; I guard her beauty clean from rust. He spins and burns and loves the air, And splits a skull to win my praise; But up the nobly marching days She glitters naked, cold and fair. […]...
23. By the Bivouac's Fitful Flame BY the bivouac’s fitful flame, A procession winding around me, solemn and sweet and slow;-but first I note, The tents of the sleeping army, the fields’ and woods’ dim outline, The darkness, lit by spots of kindled fire-the silence; Like a phantom far or near an occasional figure moving; The shrubs and trees, (as I […]...
24. 136. Prayer-O Thou Dread Power O THOU dread Power, who reign’st above, I know thou wilt me hear, When for this scene of peace and love, I make this prayer sincere. The hoary Sire-the mortal stroke, Long, long be pleas’d to spare; To bless this little filial flock, And show what good men are. She, who her lovely offspring eyes […]...
25. Brother And Sister “SISTER, sister, go to bed! Go and rest your weary head.” Thus the prudent brother said. “Do you want a battered hide, Or scratches to your face applied?” Thus his sister calm replied. “Sister, do not raise my wrath. I’d make you into mutton broth As easily as kill a moth” The sister raised her […]...
26. "Nature" is what we see “Nature” is what we see The Hill the Afternoon Squirrel Eclipse the Bumble bee Nay Nature is Heaven Nature is what we hear The Bobolink the Sea Thunder the Cricket Nay Nature is Harmony Nature is what we know Yet have no art to say So impotent Our Wisdom is To her Simplicity....
27. To Ellen, At The South The green grass is growing, The morning wind is in it, ‘Tis a tune worth the knowing, Though it change every minute. ‘Tis a tune of the spring, Every year plays it over, To the robin on the wing, To the pausing lover. O’er ten thousand thousand acres Goes light the nimble zephyr, The flowers, […]...
28. Psalm 98 part 1 Praise for the gospel. To our Almighty Maker, God, New honors be addressed; His great salvation shines abroad, And makes the nations blest. He spake the word to Abraham first; His truth fulfils the grace; The Gentiles make his name their trust, And learn his righteousness. Let the whole earth his love proclaim With all […]...
29. Some keep the Sabbath going to Church Some keep the Sabbath going to Church I keep it, staying at Home With a Bobolink for a Chorister And an Orchard, for a Dome Some keep the Sabbath in Surplice I just wear my Wings And instead of tolling the Bell, for Church, Our little Sexton sings. God preaches, a noted Clergyman And the […]...
30. Philosophy At morn the wise man walked abroad, Proud with the learning of great fools. He laughed and said, ‘There is no God — ВЂ˜Tis force creates, ‘tis reason rules. ’ Meek with the wisdom of great faith, At night he knelt while angels smiled, And wept and cried with anguished breath, ВЂ˜Jehovah, God, save Thou […]...
31. Variations on ‘The short night Below are eleven Buson haiku Beginning with the phrase ‘The short night ‘ The short night On the hairy caterpillar Beads of dew. The short night Patrolmen Washing in the river. The short night Bubbles of crab froth Among the river reeds. The short night A broom thrown away On the beach. The short night […]...
32. Itylus Swallow, my sister, O sister swallow, How can thine heart be full of the spring? A thousand summers are over and dead. What hast thou found in the spring to follow? What hast thou found in thine heart to sing? What wilt thou do when the summer is shed? O swallow, sister, O fair swift […]...
33. November Yet one smile more, departing, distant sun! One mellow smile through the soft vapoury air, Ere, o’er the frozen earth, the loud winds ran, Or snows are sifted o’er the meadows bare. One smile on the brown hills and naked trees, And the dark rocks whose summer wreaths are cast, And the blue Gentian flower, […]...
34. Morning Poem Every morning The world Is created. Under the orange Sticks of the sun The heaped Ashes of the night Turn into leaves again And fasten themselves to the high branches – And the ponds appear Like black cloth On which are painted islands Of summer lilies. If it is your nature To be happy You […]...
35. The Breast One night a woman’s breast came to a man’s room and Began to talk about her twin sister. Her twin sister this and her twin sister that. Finally the man said, but what about you, dear breast? And so the breast spent the rest of the night talking about Herself. It was the same as […]...
36. Frenzy I am not lazy. I am on the amphetamine of the soul. I am, each day, Typing out the God My typewriter believes in. Very quick. Very intense, Like a wolf at a live heart. Not lazy. When a lazy man, they say, Looks toward heaven, The angels close the windows. Oh angels, Keep the […]...
37. GROWTH O’ER field and plain, in childhood’s artless days, Thou sprang’st with me, on many a spring-morn fair. “For such a daughter, with what pleasing care, Would I, as father, happy dwellings raise!” And when thou on the world didst cast thy gaze, Thy joy was then in household toils to share. “Why did I trust […]...
38. The Little Peach A little peach in the orchard grew, A little peach of emerald hue; Warmed by the sun and wet by the dew, It grew. One day, passing that orchard through, That little peach dawned on the view Of Johnny Jones and his sister Sue Them two. Up at that peach a club they threw Down […]...
39. Hymn 156 Presumption and despair; or, Satan’s various temptations. I hate the tempter and his charms, I hate his flatt’ring breath; The serpent takes a thousand forms To cheat our souls to death. He feeds our hopes with airy dreams, Or kills with slavish fear; And holds us still in wide extremes, Presumption or despair. Now he […]...
40. Edith Conant We stand about this place we, the memories; And shade our eyes because we dread to read: “June 17th, 1884, aged 21 years and 3 days.” And all things are changed. And we we, the memories, stand here for ourselves alone, For no eye marks us, or would know why we are here. Your husband […]...