Tag Archives: land

The Color of the Grave is Green –

The Color of the Grave is Green --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 –

This -- is the land -- the Sunset washes --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!

What is — “Paradise” –

What is -- 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!

Tho’ my destiny be Fustian –

Tho' my destiny be Fustian --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!

I have a Bird in spring

I have a Bird in springI have a Bird in spring
Which for myself doth sing —
The spring decoys.
And as the summer nears —
And as the Rose appears,
Robin is gone.

Yet do I not repine
Knowing that Bird of mine
Though flown —
Learneth beyond the sea
Melody new for me
And will return.

Fast is a safer hand
Held in a truer Land
Are mine —
And though they now depart,
Tell I my doubting heart
They’re thine.

In a serener Bright,
In a more golden light
I see
Each little doubt and fear,
Each little discord here
Removed.

Then will I not repine,
Knowing that Bird of mine
Though flown
Shall in a distant tree
Bright melody for me
Return.