Tag Archives: tomorrow

It don’t sound so terrible — quite — as it did –

It don't sound so terrible -- quite -- as it did --It don’t sound so terrible — quite — as it did –
I run it over — “Dead”, Brain, “Dead.”
Put it in Latin — left of my school –
Seems it don’t shriek so — under rule.

Turn it, a little — full in the face
A Trouble looks bitterest –
Shift it — just –
Say “When Tomorrow comes this way –
I shall have waded down one Day.”

I suppose it will interrupt me some
Till I get accustomed — but then the Tomb
Like other new Things — shows largest — then –
And smaller, by Habit –

It’s shrewder then
Put the Thought in advance — a Year –
How like “a fit” — then –
Murder — wear!

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I’m saying every day

I'm saying every dayI’m saying every day
“If I should be a Queen, tomorrow” –
I’d do this way –
And so I deck, a little,

If it be, I wake a Bourbon,
None on me, bend supercilious –
With “This was she –
Begged in the Market place –

Court is a stately place –
I’ve heard men say –
So I loop my apron, against the Majesty
With bright Pins of Buttercup –
That not too plain –
Rank — overtake me –

And perch my Tongue
On Twigs of singing — rather high –
But this, might be my brief Term
To qualify –

Put from my simple speech all plain word –
Take other accents, as such I heard
Though but for the Cricket — just,
And but for the Bee –
Not in all the Meadow –
One accost me –

Better to be ready –
Than did next morn
Meet me in Aragon –
My old Gown — on –

And the surprised Air
Rustics — wear –
Summoned — unexpectedly –
To Exeter –

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The Doomed — regard the Sunrise

The Doomed -- regard the SunriseThe Doomed — regard the Sunrise
With different Delight –
Because — when next it burns abroad
They doubt to witness it –

The Man — to die — tomorrow –
Harks for the Meadow Bird –
Because its Music stirs the Axe
That clamors for his head –

Joyful — to whom the Sunrise
Precedes Enamored — Day –
Joyful — for whom the Meadow Bird
Has ought but Elegy!

Heart, not so heavy as mine

Heart, not so heavy as mineHeart, not so heavy as mine
Wending late home –
As it passed my window
Whistled itself a tune –
A careless snatch — a ballad — A ditty of the street –
Yet to my irritated Ear
An Anodyne so sweet –
It was as if a Bobolink
Sauntering this way
Carolled, and paused, and carolled –
Then bubbled slow away!
It was as if a chirping brook
Upon a dusty way –
Set bleeding feet to minuets
Without the knowing why!
Tomorrow, night will come again –
Perhaps, weary and sore –
Ah Bugle! By my window
I pray you pass once more.