That sovereign thought obscured? That vision clear
Dimmed in the shadow of the sable wing,
And fainter grown the fine interpreting
Which as an oracle was ours to hear!
Nay, but the Gods reclaim not from the seer
Their gift,—although he ceases here to sing,
And, like the antique sage, a covering
Draws round his head, knowing what...
-
-
Snow beneath whose chilly softness
Some that never lay
Make their first Repose this Winter
I admonish Thee
Blanket Wealthier the Neighbor
We so new bestow
Than thine acclimated Creature
Wilt Thou, Austere Snow? -
There is a Zone whose even Years
No Solstice interrupt —
Whose Sun constructs perpetual Noon
Whose perfect Seasons wait —
Whose Summer set in Summer, till
The Centuries of June
And Centuries of August cease
And Consciousness — is Noon. -
* * *
There was a Young Lady whose bonnet,
Came untied when the birds sate upon it;
But she said: 'I don't care!
All the birds in the air
Are welcome to sit on my bonnet!'
<Publ. 1846> -
* * *
There was a Young Lady whose chin,
Resembled the point of a pin;
... -
* * *
There was a Young Lady whose eyes,
Were unique as to colour and size;
When she opened them wide,
People all turned aside,
And started away in surprise.
<Publ. 1846> -
* * *
There was a Young Lady whose nose,
Was so long that it reached to her toes;
So she hired an Old Lady,
Whose conduct was steady,
To carry that wonderful nose.
Pub. 1846
... -
* * *
There was an Old Man, on whose nose,
Most birds of the air could repose;
But they all flew away
At the closing of day,
Which relieved that Old Man and his nose.
<Publ. 1846> -
* * *
There was an Old Person whose habits,
Induced him to feed upon rabbits;
When he'd eaten eighteen,
He turned perfectly green,
Upon which he relinquished those habits.
<Publ. 1846> -
Whose are the little beds, I asked
Which in the valleys lie?
Some shook their heads, and others smiled —
And no one made reply.
Perhaps they did not hear, I said,
I will inquire again —
Whose are the beds — the tiny beds
So thick upon the plain?
'Tis Daisy, in the...