Up Life's Hill with my little Bundle
If I prove it steep —
If a Discouragement withhold me —
If my newest step
Older feel than the Hope that prompted —
Spotless be from blame
Heart that proposed as Heart that accepted
Homelessness, for Home —
-
-
Upon a Lilac Sea
To toss incessantly
His Plush Alarm
Who fleeing from the Spring
The Spring avenging fling
To Dooms of Balm -
Full thirty frosts since thou wert young
Have chill'd the wither'd grove,
Thou wretch! and hast thou liv'd so long,
Nor yet forgot to love?
Ye Sages! spite of your pretences
To wisdom, you must own
Your folly frequently commences
When you acknowledge none.
...Upon Concluded Lives
There's nothing cooler falls —
Than Life's sweet Calculations —
The mixing Bells and Palls —
Make Lacerating Tune —
To Ears the Dying Side —
'Tis Coronal — and Funeral —
Saluting — in the Road —Upon his Saddle sprung a Bird
And crossed a thousand Trees
Before a Fence without a Fare
His Fantasy did please
And then he lifted up his Throat
And squandered such a Note
A Universe that overheard
Is stricken by it yet —Upon the gallows hung a wretch,
Too sullied for the hell
To which the law entitled him.
As nature's curtain fell
The one who bore him tottered in , —
For this was woman's son.
"'Twere all I had," she stricken gasped —
Oh, what a livid boon!I'll tell thee now (dear love) what thou shalt do
To anger destiny, as she doth us;
How I shall stay, though she eloign me thus,
And how posterity shall know it too;
How thine may out-...Your gran'ma, in her youth, was quite
As blithe a little maid as you.
And, though her hair is snowy white,
Her eyes still have their maiden blue,
And on her checks, as fair as thine,
Methinks a girlish blush would glow
If she recalled the valentine
She got, ah! many years ago....I am monarch of all I survey,
My right there is none to dispute;
From the center all round to the sea
I am lord of the fowl and the brute.
O solitude! where are the charms
That sages have seen in thy face?
Better dwell in the midst of alarms
Than reign in this horrible...Fortune! I thank thee: gentle Goddess! thanks!
Not that my muse, tho' bashful, shall deny
She would have thank'd thee rather, hadst thou cast
A treasure in her way; for neither meed
Of early breakfast, to dispel the fumes
And bowel-raking pains of emptiness,
Nor noontide feast, nor ev'ning's cool...