lost

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!

Popularity: 15% [?]

I lost a World — the other day!
Has Anybody found?
You’ll know it by the Row of Stars
Around its forehead bound.

A Rich man — might not notice it –
Yet — to my frugal Eye,
Of more Esteem than Ducats –
Oh find it — Sir — for me!

Popularity: 13% [?]

Except to Heaven, she is nought.
Except for Angels — lone.
Except to some wide-wandering Bee
A flower superfluous blown.

Except for winds — provincial.
Except by Butterflies
Unnoticed as a single dew
That on the Acre lies.

The smallest Housewife in the grass,
Yet take her from the Lawn
And somebody has lost the face
That made Existence — Home!

Popularity: 2% [?]

Soul, Wilt thou toss again?
By just such a hazard
Hundreds have lost indeed –
But tens have won an all –

Angel’s breathless ballot
Lingers to record thee –
Imps in eager Caucus
Raffle for my Soul!

Popularity: 1% [?]

Pigmy seraphs — gone astray –
Velvet people from Vevay –
Balles from some lost summer day –
Bees exclusive Coterie –
Paris could not lay the fold
Belted down with Emerald –
Venice could not show a check
Of a tint so lustrous meek –
Never such an Ambuscade
As of briar and leaf displayed
For my little damask maid –

I had rather wear her grace
Than an Earl’s distinguished face –
I had rather dwell like her
Than be “Duke of Exeter” –
Royalty enough for me
To subdue the Bumblebee.

Popularity: 1% [?]

Where I have lost, I softer tread –
I sow sweet flower from garden bed –
I pause above that vanished head
And mourn.

Whom I have lost, I pious guard
From accent harsh, or ruthless word –
Feeling as if their pillow heard,
Though stone!

When I have lost, you’ll know by this –
A Bonnet black — A dusk surplice –
A little tremor in my voice Like this!

Why, I have lost, the people know
Who dressed in flocks of purest snow
Went home a century ago
Next Bliss!

Popularity: 2% [?]

We should not mind so small a flower –
Except it quiet bring
Our little garden that we lost
Back to the Lawn again.

So spicy her Carnations nod –
So drunken, reel her Bees –
So silver steal a hundred flutes
From out a hundred trees –

That whoso sees this little flower
By faith may clear behold
The Bobolinks around the throne
And Dandelions gold.

Popularity: 1% [?]