Tag Archives: slow

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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Removed from Accident of Loss

Removed from Accident of LossRemoved from Accident of Loss
By Accident of Gain
Befalling not my simple Days –
Myself had just to earn –

Of Riches — as unconscious
As is the Brown Malay
Of Pearls in Eastern Waters,
Marked His — What Holiday
Would stir his slow conception –
Had he the power to dream
That put the Dower’s fraction –
Awaited even — Him –

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Some — Work for Immortality –

Some -- Work for Immortality --Some — Work for Immortality –
The Chiefer part, for Time –
He — Compensates — immediately –
The former — Checks — on Fame –

Slow Gold — but Everlasting –
The Bullion of Today –
Contrasted with the Currency
Of Immortality –

A Beggar — Here and There –
Is gifted to discern
Beyond the Broker’s insight –
One’s — Money — One’s — the Mine -

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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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‘Twas the old — road — through pain –

'Twas the old -- road -- through pain --‘Twas the old — road — through pain –
That unfrequented — one –
With many a turn — and thorn –
That stops — at Heaven –

This — was the Town — she passed –
There — where she — rested — last –
Then — stepped more fast –
The little tracks — close prest –
Then — not so swift –
Slow — slow — as feet did weary — grow –
Then — stopped — no other track!

Wait! Look! Her little Book –
The leaf — at love — turned back –
Her very Hat –
And this worn shoe just fits the track –
Herself — though — fled!

Another bed — a short one –
Women make — tonight –
In Chambers bright –
Too out of sight — though –
For our hoarse Good Night –
To touch her Head!

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The Sun — just touched the Morning –

The Sun -- just touched the Morning --The Sun — just touched the Morning –
The Morning — Happy thing –
Supposed that He had come to dwell –
And Life would all be Spring!

She felt herself supremer –
A Raised — Ethereal Thing!
Henceforth — for Her — What Holiday!
Meanwhile — Her wheeling King –
Trailed — slow — along the Orchards –
His haughty — spangled Hems –
Leaving a new necessity!
The want of Diadems!

The Morning — fluttered — staggered –
Felt feebly — for Her Crown –
Her unanointed forehead –
Henceforth — Her only One!

I can’t tell you — but you feel it –

I can't tell you -- but you feel it --I can’t tell you — but you feel it –
Nor can you tell me –
Saints, with ravished slate and pencil
Solve our April Day!

Sweeter than a vanished frolic
From a vanished green!
Swifter than the hoofs of Horsemen
Round a Ledge of dream!

Modest, let us walk among it
With our faces veiled –
As they say polite Archangels
Do in meeting God!

Not for me — to prate about it!
Not for you — to say
To some fashionable Lady
“Charming April Day”!

Rather — Heaven’s “Peter Parley”!
By which Children slow
To sublimer Recitation
Are prepared to go!

A fuzzy fellow without feet

'Tis so much joy! 'Tis so much joy!A fuzzy fellow, without feet,
Yet doth exceeding run!
Of velvet, is his Countenance,
And his Complexion, dun!

Sometime, he dwelleth in the grass!
Sometime, upon a bough,
From which he doth descend in plush
Upon the Passer-by!

All this in summer.
But when winds alarm the Forest Folk,
He taketh Damask Residence –
And struts in sewing silk!

Then, finer than a Lady,
Emerges in the spring!
A Feather on each shoulder!
You’d scarce recognize him!

By Men, yclept Caterpillar!
By me! But who am I,
To tell the pretty secret
Of the Butterfly!