1. der

  • Sleeping Child (Lydia Sigourney)

    SLEEP, dearest, long and sweet,

          With smile upon thy brow,

    Thy restless, tottering feet,

          Are surely weary now,

    Trotting about all day

          Upon the nursery-floor,

    Or happier still to play

    Among the wild flowers gay

          Beside thy father's door.

    ...

  • A Sloop of Amber slips away

    A Sloop of Amber slips away

    Upon an Ether Sea,

    And wrecks in Peace a Purple Tar,

    The Son of Ecstasy —

  • Smiling back from Coronation

    Smiling back from Coronation

    May be Luxury —

    On the Heads that started with us —

    Being's Peasantry —


    Recognizing in Procession

    Ones We former knew —

    When Ourselves were also dusty —

    Centuries ago —


    Had the Triumph no Conviction

    Of how many be —

    ...

  • Snow beneath whose chilly softness

    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?

  • Snow flakes.

    Snow flakes.


    I counted till they danced so

    Their slippers leaped the town,

    And then I took a pencil

    To note the rebels down.

    And then they grew so jolly

    I did resign the prig,

    And ten of my once stately toes

    Are marshalled for a jig!

  • So bashful when I spied her!

    So bashful when I spied her,

    So pretty, so ashamed !

    So hidden in her leaflets,

    Lest anybody find ;


    So breathless till I passed her,

    So helpless when I turned

    And bore her, struggling, blushing,

    Her simple...

  • So from the mould

    So from the mould

    Scarlet and Gold

    Many a Bulb will rise —

    Hidden away, cunningly, From sagacious eyes.


    So from Cocoon

    Many a Worm

    Leap so Highland gay,

    Peasants like me,

    Peasants like Thee

    Gaze perplexedly!

  • So gay a Flower

    So gay a Flower

    Bereaves the Mind

    As if it were a Woe —

    Is Beauty an Affliction — then?

    Tradition ought to know —

  • So give me back to Death —

    So give me back to Death —

    The Death I never feared

    Except that it deprived of thee —

    And now, by Life deprived,

    In my own Grave I breathe

    And estimate its size —

    Its size is all that Hell can guess —

    And all that Heaven was —

  • So glad we are — a Stranger'd deem

    So glad we are — a Stranger'd deem

    'Twas sorry, that we were —

    For where the Holiday should be

    There publishes a Tear —

    Nor how Ourselves be justified —

    Since Grief and Joy are done

    So similar — An Optizan

    Could not decide between —