Over their graves rang once the bugle’s call,
The searching shrapnel and the crashing ball;
The shriek, the shock of battle, and the neigh
Of horse; the cries of anguish and dismay;
And the loud cannon’s thunders that appall.
Now through the years the brown pine-needles fall,
The vines run riot by the old stone wall,
By hedge, by...
Oh! where do fairies hide their heads,
When snow lies on the hills,
When frost has spoiled their mossy beds,
And crystallized their rills?
Beneath the moon they cannot trip
In circles o’er the plain;
And draughts of dew they cannot sip,
Till green leaves come again.
Perhaps, in small, blue diving-bells
They...
Voici la nuit : je vais ensevelir mes morts,
Mes songes, mes désirs, mes douleurs, mes remords,
Tout le passé... je vais ensevelir mes morts.
J'ensevelis, parmi les sombres violettes,
Tes yeux, tes mains, ton front et tes lèvres muettes,
Ô toi qui dors parmi les sombres violettes !
J'emporte cet éclair dernier de ton regard...
Dans le choc de la...
Bereavement in their death to feel
Whom We have never seen —
A Vital Kinsmanship import
Our Soul and theirs — between —
For Stranger — Strangers do not mourn —
There be Immortal friends
Whom Death see first — 'tis news of this
That paralyze Ourselves —
Who, vital only...
Of their peculiar light
I keep one ray
To clarify the Sight
To seek them by —
Safe in their alabaster chambers,
Untouched by morning and untouched by noon,
Sleep the meek members of the resurrection,
Rafter of satin, and roof of stone.
Light laughs the breeze in her castle of sunshine ;
Babbles the bee in a...
Strong Draughts of Their Refreshing Minds
To drink — enables Mine
Through Desert or the Wilderness
As bore it Sealed Wine —
To go elastic — Or as One
The Camel's trait — attained —
How powerful the Stimulus
Of an Hermetic Mind —
The Clouds their Backs together laid
The North begun to push
The Forests galloped till they fell
The Lightning played like mice
The Thunder crumbled like a stuff
How good to be in Tombs
Where Nature's Temper cannot reach
Nor vengance ever comes
The Hills erect their Purple Heads
The Rivers lean to see
Yet Man has not of all the Throng
A Curiosity.
The Skies can't keep their secret!
They tell it to the Hills —
The Hills just tell the Orchards —
And they — the Daffodils!
A Bird — by chance — that goes that way —
Soft overhears the whole —
If I should bribe the little Bird —
Who knows but she would tell?
I think I...
