Morning — is the place for Dew –
Corn — is made at Noon –
After dinner light — for flowers –
Dukes — for Setting Sun!
Popularity: 41% [?]
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In Ebon Box, when years have flown
To reverently peer,
Wiping away the velvet dust
Summers have sprinkled there!
To hold a letter to the light –
Grown Tawny now, with time –
To con the faded syllables
That quickened us like Wine!
Perhaps a Flower’s shrivelled check
Among its stores to find –
Plucked far away, some morning –
By gallant — mouldering hand!
A curl, perhaps, from foreheads
Our Constancy forgot –
Perhaps, an Antique trinket –
In vanished fashions set!
And then to lay them quiet back –
And go about its care –
As if the little Ebon Box
Were none of our affair!
Popularity: 4% [?]
Dying! Dying in the night!
Won’t somebody bring the light
So I can see which way to go
Into the everlasting snow?
And “Jesus”! Where is Jesus gone?
They said that Jesus — always came –
Perhaps he doesn’t know the House –
This way, Jesus, Let him pass!
Somebody run to the great gate
And see if Dollie’s coming! Wait!
I hear her feet upon the stair!
Death won’t hurt — now Dollie’s here!
Popularity: 4% [?]
A toad can die of light!
Death is the common right
Of toads and men, –
Of earl and midge
The privilege.
Why swagger then?
The gnat’s supremacy
Is large as thine.
Popularity: 4% [?]