Tag Archives: high

I’ll clutch — and clutch –

I'll clutch -- and clutch --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 —
Tiaras — make — of some —
Wear you on Hem —
Loop up a Countess — with you —
Make — a Diadem — and mend my old One —
Count — Hoard — then lose —
And doubt that you are mine —
To have the joy of feeling it — again —

I’ll show you at the Court —
Bear you — for Ornament
Where Women breathe —
That every sigh — may lift you
Just as high — as I —

And — when I die —
In meek array — display you —
Still to show — how rich I go —
Lest Skies impeach a wealth so wonderful —
And banish me –

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I’m saying every day

I'm saying every dayI’m saying every day
“If I should be a Queen, tomorrow” —
I’d do this way —
And so I deck, a little,

If it be, I wake a Bourbon,
None on me, bend supercilious —
With “This was she —
Begged in the Market place —
Yesterday.”

Court is a stately place —
I’ve heard men say —
So I loop my apron, against the Majesty
With bright Pins of Buttercup —
That not too plain —
Rank — overtake me —

And perch my Tongue
On Twigs of singing — rather high —
But this, might be my brief Term
To qualify —

Put from my simple speech all plain word —
Take other accents, as such I heard
Though but for the Cricket — just,
And but for the Bee —
Not in all the Meadow —
One accost me —

Better to be ready —
Than did next morn
Meet me in Aragon —
My old Gown — on —

And the surprised Air
Rustics — wear —
Summoned — unexpectedly —
To Exeter –

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I gained it so –

I gained it so --I gained it so —
By Climbing slow —
By Catching at the Twigs that grow
Between the Bliss — and me —
It hung so high
As well the Sky
Attempt by Strategy —

I said I gained it —
This — was all —
Look, how I clutch it
Lest it fall —
And I a Pauper go —
Unfitted by an instant’s Grace
For the Contented — Beggar’s face
I wore — an hour ago –

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Her — “last Poems” –

Her -- Her — “last Poems” —
Poets — ended —
Silver — perished — with her Tongue —
Not on Record — bubbled other,
Flute — or Woman —
So divine —
Not unto its Summer — Morning
Robin — uttered Half the Tune —
Gushed too free for the Adoring —
From the Anglo-Florentine —
Late — the Praise —
‘Tis dull — conferring
On the Head too High to Crown —
Diadem — or Ducal Showing —
Be its Grave — sufficient sign —
Nought — that We — No Poet’s Kinsman —
Suffocate — with easy woe —
What, and if, Ourself a Bridegroom —
Put Her down — in Italy?

We don’t cry — Tim and I,

We don't cry -- Tim and I,We don’t cry — Tim and I,
We are far too grand —
But we bolt the door tight
To prevent a friend —

Then we hide our brave face
Deep in our hand —
Not to cry — Tim and I —
We are far too grand —

Nor to dream — he and me —
Do we condescend —
We just shut our brown eye
To see to the end —

Tim — see Cottages —
But, Oh, so high!
Then — we shake — Tim and I —
And lest I — cry —

Tim — reads a little Hymn —
And we both pray —
Please, Sir, I and Tim —
Always lost the way!

We must die — by and by —
Clergymen say —
Tim — shall — if I — do —
I — too — if he —

How shall we arrange it —
Tim — was — so — shy?
Take us simultaneous — Lord —
I — “Tim” — and Me!

I met a King this afternoon!

Tho' my destiny be Fustian --I met a King this afternoon!
He had not on a Crown indeed,
A little Palmleaf Hat was all,
And he was barefoot, I’m afraid!

But sure I am he Ermine wore
Beneath his faded Jacket’s blue —
And sure I am, the crest he bore
Within that Jacket’s pocket too!

For ’twas too stately for an Earl —
A Marquis would not go so grand!
‘Twas possibly a Czar petite —
A Pope, or something of that kind!

If I must tell you, of a Horse
My freckled Monarch held the rein —
Doubtless an estimable Beast,
But not at all disposed to run!

And such a wagon! While I live
Dare I presume to see
Another such a vehicle
As then transported me!

Two other ragged Princes
His royal state partook!
Doubtless the first excursion
These sovereigns ever took!

I question if the Royal Coach
Round which the Footmen wait
Has the significance, on high,
Of this Barefoot Estate!

For every Bird a Nest –

For every Bird a Nest --For every Bird a Nest —
Wherefore in timid quest
Some little Wren goes seeking round —

Wherefore when boughs are free —
Households in every tree —
Pilgrim be found?

Perhaps a home too high —
Ah Aristocracy!
The little Wren desires —

Perhaps of twig so fine —
Of twine e’en superfine,
Her pride aspires —

The Lark is not ashamed
To build upon the ground
Her modest house —

Yet who of all the throng
Dancing around the sun
Does so rejoice?