Tag Archives: away

I know where Wells grow — Droughtless Wells —

I know where Wells grow Droughtless Wells
I know where Wells grow — Droughtless Wells —
Deep dug — for Summer days —
Where Mosses go no more away —
And Pebble — safely plays —

It’s made of Fathoms — and a Belt —
A Belt of jagged Stone —
Inlaid with Emerald — half way down —
And Diamonds — jumbled on —

It has no Bucket — Were I rich
A Bucket I would buy —
I’m often thirsty — but my lips
Are so high up — You see —

I read in an Old fashioned Book
That People “thirst no more” —
The Wells have Buckets to them there —
It must mean that — I’m sure —

Shall We remember Parching — then?
Those Waters sound so grand —
I think a little Well — like Mine —
Dearer to understand —

It feels a shame to be Alive —

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 of Him we — possessed
In Pawn for Liberty —

The price is great — Sublimely paid —
Do we deserve — a Thing —
That lives — like Dollars — must be piled
Before we may obtain?

Are we that wait — sufficient worth —
That such Enormous Pearl
As life — dissolved be — for Us —
In Battle’s — horrid Bowl?

It may be — a Renown to live —
I think the Man who die —
Those unsustained — Saviors —
Present Divinity —
Therefore — we do life’s labor —
Though life’s Reward — be done —
With scrupulous exactness —
To hold our Senses — on —

I tie my Hat — I crease my Shawl —

I tie my Hat -- I crease my Shawl --I tie my Hat — I crease my Shawl —
Life’s little duties do — precisely —
As the very least
Were infinite — to me —

I put new Blossoms in the Glass —
And throw the old — away —
I push a petal from my gown
That anchored there — I weigh
The time ’twill be till six o’clock
I have so much to do —
And yet — Existence — some way back —
Stopped — struck — my ticking — through —
We cannot put Ourself away
As a completed Man
Or Woman — When the Errand’s done
We came to Flesh — upon —
There may be — Miles on Miles of Nought —
Of Action — sicker far —
To simulate — is stinging work —
To cover what we are
From Science — and from Surgery —
Too Telescopic Eyes
To bear on us unshaded —
For their — sake — not for Ours —
‘Twould start them —
We — could tremble —
But since we got a Bomb —
And held it in our Bosom —
Nay — Hold it — it is calm —

Therefore — we do life’s labor —
Though life’s Reward — be done —
With scrupulous exactness —
To hold our Senses — on —

They put Us far apart —

They put Us far apartThey put Us far apart —
As separate as Sea
And Her unsown Peninsula —
We signified “These see” —

They took away our Eyes —
They thwarted Us with Guns —
“I see Thee” each responded straight
Through Telegraphic Signs —

With Dungeons — They devised —
But through their thickest skill —
And their opaquest Adamant —
Our Souls saw — just as well —

They summoned Us to die —
With sweet alacrity
We stood upon our stapled feet —
Condemned — but just — to see —

Permission to recant —
Permission to forget —
We turned our backs upon the Sun
For perjury of that —

Not Either — noticed Death —
Of Paradise — aware —
Each other’s Face — was all the Disc
Each other’s setting — saw —

We grow accustomed to the Dark —

We grow accustomed to the Dark --We grow accustomed to the Dark —
When light is put away —
As when the Neighbor holds the Lamp
To witness her Goodbye —

A Moment — We uncertain step
For newness of the night —
Then — fit our Vision to the Dark —
And meet the Road — erect —

And so of larger — Darkness —
Those Evenings of the Brain —
When not a Moon disclose a sign —
Or Star — come out — within —

The Bravest — grope a little —
And sometimes hit a Tree
Directly in the Forehead —
But as they learn to see —

Either the Darkness alters —
Or something in the sight
Adjusts itself to Midnight —
And Life steps almost straight.

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The Winters are so short —

The Winters are so short --The Winters are so short —
I’m hardly justified
In sending all the Birds away —
And moving into Pod —

Myself — for scarcely settled —
The Phoebes have begun —
And then — it’s time to strike my Tent —
And open House — again —

It’s mostly, interruptions —
My Summer — is despoiled —
Because there was a Winter — once —
And all the Cattle — starved —

And so there was a Deluge —
And swept the World away —
But Ararat’s a Legend — now —
And no one credits Noah —

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