Poems List

He found my Being—set it up

He found my Being—set it up

603

He found my Being—set it up—
Adjusted it to place—
Then carved his name—upon it—
And bade it to the East


Be faithful—in his absence—
And he would come again—
With Equipage of Amber—
That time—to take it Home—
👁️ 265

He forgot—and I—remembered

He forgot—and I—remembered

203

He forgot—and I—remembered—
'Twas an everyday affair—
Long ago as Christ and Peter—
"Warmed them" at the "Temple fire."


"Thou wert with him"—quoth "the Damsel"?
"No"—said Peter, 'twasn't me—
Jesus merely "looked" at Peter—
Could I do aught else—to Thee?
👁️ 273

Have any like Myself

Have any like Myself

736

Have any like Myself
Investigating March,
New Houses on the Hill descried-
And possibly a Church-

That were not, We are sure-
As lately as the Snow-
And are Today-if We exist-
Though how may this be so?

Have any like Myself
Conjectured Who may be
The Occupants of the Adobes-
So easy to the Sky


'Twould seem that God should be
The nearest Neighbor to-
And Heaven-a convenient Grace
For Show, or Company-

Have any like Myself
Preserved the Charm secure
By shunning carefully the Place
All Seasons of the Year,

Excepting March-'Tis then
My Villages be seen-
And possibly a Steeple-
Not afterward-by Men-
👁️ 286

Had I not This, or This, I said

Had I not This, or This, I said

904

Had I not This, or This, I said,
Appealing to Myself,
In moment of prosperityInadequate-
were Life


"Thou hast not Me, nor Me"-it said,
In Moment of Reverse"
And yet Thou art industrious-
No need-hadst Thou-of us"?


My need-was all I had-I said-
The need did not reduce-
Because the food-exterminate-
The hunger-does not cease-


But diligence-is sharper-
Proportioned to the Chance-
To feed upon the RetrogradeEnfeebles-
the Advance-
👁️ 196

Great Caesar! Condescend

Great Caesar! Condescend

102

Great Caesar! Condescend
The Daisy, to receive,
Gathered by Cato's Daughter,
With your majestic leave!
👁️ 304

Good to hide, and hear 'em hunt!

Good to hide, and hear 'em hunt!

842

Good to hide, and hear 'em hunt!
Better, to be found,
If one care to, that is,
The Fox fits the Hound-


Good to know, and not tell,
Best, to know and tell,
Can one find the rare Ear
Not too dull-
👁️ 317

Good night! which put the candle out?

Good night! which put the candle out?

Good night! which put the candle out?
A jealous zephyr, not a doubt.

Ah! friend, you little knew
How long at that celestial wick
The angels labored diligent;

Extinguished, now, for you!

It might have been the lighthouse spark
Some sailor, rowing in the dark,

Had importuned to see!
It might have been the waning lamp
That lit the drummer from the camp

To purer reveille!
👁️ 267

Going to him! Happy letter! Tell him--

Going to him! Happy letter! Tell him--

Going to him! Happy letter! Tell him--
Tell him the page I didn't write;
Tell him I only said the syntax,
And left the verb and the pronoun out.


Tell him just how the fingers hurried
Then how they waded, slow, slow, slow-
And then you wished you had eyes in your pages,
So you could see what moved them so.


'Tell him it wasn't a practised writer,
You guessed, from the way the sentence toiled;
You could hear the bodice tug, behind you,
As if it held but the might of a child;
You almost pitied it, you, it worked so.
Tell him--No, you may quibble there,
For it would split his heart to know it,
And then you and I were silenter.


'Tell him night finished before we finished
And the old clock kept neighing 'day!'
And you got sleepy and begged to be ended--
What could it hinder so, to say?
Tell him just how she sealed you, cautious
But if he ask where you are hid
Until to-morrow,--happy letter!
Gesture, coquette, and shake your head!'
👁️ 270

God permit industrious angels

God permit industrious angels

God permit industrious angels
Afternoons to play.
I met one, -- forgot my school-mates,
All, for him, straightaway.


God calls home the angels promptly
At the setting sun;
I missed mine. How dreary marbles,
After playing the Crown!
👁️ 252

God is a distant—stately Lover

God is a distant—stately Lover

357

God is a distant—stately Lover—
Woos, as He states us—by His Son—
Verily, a Vicarious Courtship—
"Miles", and "Priscilla", were such an One—


But, lest the Soul—like fair "Priscilla"
Choose the Envoy—and spurn the Groom—
Vouches, with hyperbolic archness—
"Miles", and "John Alden" were Synonym—
👁️ 294

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