Poems List

I like a look of Agony

I like a look of Agony

241

I like a look of Agony,
Because I know it's true-
Men do not sham Convulsion,
Nor simulate, a Throe-

The Eyes glaze once-and that is Death-
Impossible to feign
The Beads upon the Forehead
By homely Anguish strung.
👁️ 309

I know where Wells grow—Droughtless Wells

I know where Wells grow—Droughtless Wells

460

I know where Wells grow—Droughtless Wells—
Deep dug—for Summer days—
Where Mosses go no more away—
And Pebble—safely plays—


It's made of Fathoms—and a Belt—
A Belt of jagged Stone—
Inlaid with Emerald—half way down—
And Diamonds—jumbled on—


It has no Bucket—Were I rich
A Bucket I would buy—
I'm often thirsty—but my lips
Are so high up—You see—


I read in an Old fashioned Book
That People "thirst no more"—
The Wells have Buckets to them there—
It must mean that—I'm sure—


Shall We remember Parching—then?
Those Waters sound so grand—
I think a little Well—like Mine—
Dearer to understand—
👁️ 296

I know some lonely Houses off the Road

I know some lonely Houses off the Road

289

I know some lonely Houses off the Road
A Robber'd like the look of-
Wooden barred,
And Windows hanging low,
Inviting to-
A Portico,
Where two could creepOne-
hand the Tools-
The other peep-
To make sure All's Asleep-
Old fashioned eyes-
Not easy to surprise!


How orderly the Kitchen'd look, by night,
With just a Clock-
But they could gag the Tick-
And Mice won't bark-
And so the Walls-don't tellNone-
will-


A pair of Spectacles ajar just stir-
An Almanac's aware-
Was it the Mat-winked,
Or a Nervous Star?
The Moon-slides down the stair,
To see who's there!


There's plunder-where-
Tankard, or SpoonEarring-
or Stone-
A Watch-Some Ancient Brooch
To match the Grandmama-
Staid sleeping-there


Day-rattles-too
Stealth's-slow-
The Sun has got as far
As the third Sycamore-
Screams Chanticleer
"Who's there"?


And Echoes-Trains away,
Sneer-"Where"!
While the old Couple, just astir,
Fancy the Sunrise-left the door ajar!
👁️ 367

I know a place where summer strives

I know a place where summer strives

I know a place where summer strives
With such a practised frost,
She each year leads her daisies back,
Recording briefly, 'Lost.'


But when the south wind stirs the pools
And struggles in the lanes,
Her heart misgives her for her vow,
And she pours soft refrains


Into the lap of adamant,
And spices, and the dew,
That stiffens quietly to quartz
Upon her amber shoe.
👁️ 277

I hide myself within my flower

I hide myself within my flower

903

I hide myself within my flower,
That fading from your Vase,
You, unsuspecting, feel for me-
Almost a loneliness.
👁️ 251

I heard a fly buzz when I died;

I heard a fly buzz when I died;

I heard a fly buzz when I died;
The stillness round my form
Was like the stillness in the air
Between the heaves of storm.


The eyes beside had wrung them dry,
And breaths were gathering sure
For that last onset, when the king
Be witnessed in his power.


I willed my keepsakes, signed away
What portion of me I
Could make assignable,--and then
There interposed a fly,


With blue, uncertain, stumbling buzz,
Between the light and me;
And then the windows failed, and then
I could not see to see.
👁️ 323

I have never seen Volcanoes

I have never seen "Volcanoes"

175

I have never seen "Volcanoes"-
But, when Travellers tell
How those old-phlegmatic mountains
Usually so still-


Bear within-appalling Ordnance,
Fire, and smoke, and gun,
Taking Villages for breakfast,
And appalling Men-


If the stillness is Volcanic
In the human face
When upon a pain Titanic
Features keep their place-


If at length the smouldering anguish
Will not overcome-
And the palpitating Vineyard
In the dust, be thrown?


If some loving Antiquary,
On Resumption Morn,
Will not cry with joy "Pompeii"!
To the Hills return!
👁️ 281

I have a King, who does not speak

I have a King, who does not speak

103

I have a King, who does not speakSo-
wondering-thro' the hours meek
I trudge the day away-
Half glad when it is night, and sleep,
If, haply, thro' a dream, to peep
In parlors, shut by day.


And if I do-when morning comes-
It is as if a hundred drums
Did round my pillow roll,
And shouts fill all my Childish sky,
And Bells keep saying "Victory"
From steeples in my soul!


And if I don't-the little Bird
Within the Orchard, is not heard,
And I omit to pray
"Father, thy will be done" today
For my will goes the other way,
And it were perjury!
👁️ 271

I had the Glory—that will do

I had the Glory—that will do

349

I had the Glory—that will do—
An Honor, Thought can turn her to
When lesser Fames invite—
With one long "Nay"—
Bliss' early shape
Deforming—Dwindling—Gulfing up—
Time's possibility.
👁️ 232

I had not minded—Walls

I had not minded—Walls

398

I had not minded—Walls—
Were Universe—one Rock—
And fr I heard his silver Call
The other side the Block—


I'd tunnel—till my Groove
Pushed sudden thro' to his—
Then my face take her Recompense—
The looking in his Eyes—


But 'tis a single Hair—
A filament—a law—
A Cobweb—wove in Adamant—
A Battlement—of Straw—


A limit like the Veil
Unto the Lady's face—
But every Mesh—a Citadel—
And Dragons—in the Crease—
👁️ 225

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