Tag Archives: done

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 –

Not probable — The barest Chance –

Not probable -- The barest Chance --When Night is almost done —
And Sunrise grows so near
That we can touch the Spaces —
It’s time to smooth the Hair —

And get the Dimples ready —
And wonder we could care
For that old — faded Midnight —
That frightened — but an Hour –

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It will be Summer — eventually.

It will be Summer -- eventually.It will be Summer — eventually.
Ladies — with parasols —
Sauntering Gentlemen — with Canes —
And little Girls — with Dolls —

Will tint the pallid landscape —
As ’twere a bright Bouquet —
Thro’ drifted deep, in Parian —
The Village lies — today —

The Lilacs — bending many a year —
Will sway with purple load —
The Bees — will not despise the tune —
Their Forefathers — have hummed —

The Wild Rose — redden in the Bog —
The Aster — on the Hill
Her everlasting fashion — set —
And Covenant Gentians — frill —

Till Summer folds her miracle —
As Women — do — their Gown —
Of Priests — adjust the Symbols —
When Sacrament — is done –

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So glad we are — a Stranger’d deem

So glad we are -- a Stranger'd deemSo glad we are — a Stranger’d deem
‘Twas sorry, that we were —
For where the Holiday should be
There publishes a Tear —
Nor how Ourselves be justified —
Since Grief and Joy are done
So similar — An Optizan
Could not decide between –

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Like Some Old fashioned Miracle

Like Some Old fashioned MiracleLike Some Old fashioned Miracle
When Summertime is done —
Seems Summer’s Recollection
And the Affairs of June

As infinite Tradition
As Cinderella’s Bays —
Or Little John — of Lincoln Green —
Or Blue Beard’s Galleries —

Her Bees have a fictitious Hum —
Her Blossoms, like a Dream —
Elate us — till we almost weep —
So plausible — they seem —

Her Memories like Strains — Review —
When Orchestra is dumb —
The Violin in Baize replaced —
And Ear — and Heaven — numb –

It’s like the Light –

It's like the Light --It’s like the Light —
A fashionless Delight —
It’s like the Bee —
A dateless — Melody —

It’s like the Woods —
Private — Like the Breeze —
Phraseless — yet it stirs
The proudest Trees —

It’s like the Morning —
Best — when it’s done —
And the Everlasting Clocks —
Chime — Noon!