Choice of all the souls that stand create I have elected one. When sense from spirit files away, And subterfuge is done; When that which is and that which was Apart, intrinsic, stand, And this brief tragedy of flesh Is shifted like a sand; When figures show their royal front And mists are carved away,— Behold the atom I preferred To all the lists of clay! CONSTANT ALTER? When the hills do. Falter? When the sun Question if his glory Be the perfect one. Surfeit? When the daffodil Doth of the dew: Even as herself, O friend! I will of you! HEART, WE WILL FORGET HIM HEART, we will forget him! You and I, to-night! You may forget the warmth he gave, I will forget the light. When you have done, pray tell me, That I my thoughts may dim; Haste! lest while you ’re lagging, I may remember him!
Love
More from Poet
|
I Never saw a moor, I never saw the sea; Yet know I how the heather looks, And what a wave must be. I never spake with God, Nor visited in heaven; Yet certain am I of the spot As if the chart were given. |
Belshazzar had a letter,— He never had but one; Belshazzar’s correspondent Concluded and begun In that immortal copy The conscience of us all Can read without its glasses On revelation’s wall. |
Will there really be a morning? Is there such a thing as day? Could I see it from the mountains If I were as tall as they? Has it feet like water lilies? Has it feathers like a bird? Is it brought from famous countries Of which I ’ve never heard? Oh some scholar, oh some sailor, Oh some wise man... |
Too late delayed till she had ceased to know, Delayed till in its vest of snow Her loving bosom lay: An hour behind the fleeting breath, Later by just an hour than death,— Oh, lagging yesterday! Could she have guessed that it would be; Could but a crier of the glee Have climbed the distant... |
|
The waking YEAR A LADY red upon the hill Her annual secret keeps; A lady white within the field In placid lily sleeps! The tidy breezes with their brooms Sweep vail, and hill, and tree! Prithee, my pretty housewives! Who may expected be? The neighbors do not yet suspect! The woods... |