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.