land

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The Color of the Grave is Green –

March 1, 2013 in Poems | No comments

The Color of the Grave is Green –
The Outer Grave — I mean –
You would not know it from the Field –
Except it own a Stone –

To help the fond — to find it –
Too infinite asleep
To stop and tell them where it is –
But just a Daisy — deep –

The Color of the Grave is white –
The outer Grave — I mean –
You would not know it from the Drifts –
In Winter — till the Sun –

Has furrowed out the Aisles –
Then — higher than the Land
The little Dwelling Houses rise
Where each — has left a friend –

The Color of the Grave within –
The Duplicate — I mean –
Not all the Snows could make it white –
Not all the Summers — Green –

You’ve seen the Color — maybe –
Upon a Bonnet bound –
When that you met it with before –
The Ferret — cannot find –

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This — is the land — the Sunset washes –

September 10, 2010 in Poems | No comments

This — is the land — the Sunset washes –
These — are the Banks of the Yellow Sea –
Where it rose — or whither it rushes –
These — are the Western Mystery!

Night after Night
Her purple traffic
Strews the landing with Opal Bales –
Merchantmen — poise upon Horizons –
Dip — and vanish like Orioles!

Tags: bales, banks, dip, horizons, land, landing, men, merchantmen, mystery, night, opan, orioles, poise, purple, rose, rushes, sea, strews, sun, sunset, traffic, vanish, washes, western, yellow

What is — “Paradise” –

April 2, 2010 in Poems | No comments

What is — “Paradise” –
Who live there –
Are they “Farmers” –
Do they “hoe” –
Do they know that this is “Amherst” –
And that I — am coming — too –

Do they wear “new shoes” — in “Eden” –
Is it always pleasant — there –
Won’t they scold us — when we’re homesick –
Or tell God — how cross we are –

You are sure there’s such a person
As “a Father” — in the sky –
So if I get lost — there — ever –
Or do what the Nurse calls “die” –
I shan’t walk the “Jasper” — barefoot –
Ransomed folks — won’t laugh at me –
Maybe — “Eden” a’n't so lonesome
As New England used to be!

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Tho’ my destiny be Fustian –

December 27, 2009 in Poems | No comments

Tho’ my destiny be Fustian –
Hers be damask fine –
Tho’ she wear a silver apron –
I, a less divine –

Still, my little Gypsy being
I would far prefer,
Still, my little sunburnt bosom
To her Rosier,

For, when Frosts, their punctual fingers
On her forehead lay,
You and I, and Dr. Holland,
Bloom Eternally!

Roses of a steadfast summer
In a steadfast land,
Where no Autumn lifts her pencil –
And no Reapers stand!

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Water, is taught by thirst.

October 15, 2009 in Poems | No comments

Water, is taught by thirst.
Land — by the Oceans passed.
Transport — by throe –
Peace — by its battles told –
Love, by Memorial Mold –
Birds, by the Snow.

Tags: battles, birds, land, Love, memorial, mold, oceans, peace, snow, taught, thirst, throe, transport, water

Garland for Queens, may be –

April 11, 2009 in Poems | No comments

Garland for Queens, may be –
Laurels — for rare degree
Of soul or sword.
Ah — but remembering me –
Ah — but remembering thee –
Nature in chivalry –
Nature in charity –
Nature in equity –
This Rose ordained!