To her derided Home
A Weed of Summer came —
She did not know her station low
Nor Ignominy's Name —
Bestowed a summer long
Upon a frameless flower —
Then swept as lightly from disdain
As Lady from her Bower —
Of Bliss the Codes are few —
As Jesus cites of Him —...
To his simplicity
To die — was little Fate —
If Duty live — contented
But her Confederate.
To H
Thy Friendship oft has made my heart to ake
Do be my Enemy for Friendships sake
To interrupt His Yellow Plan
The Sun does not allow
Caprices of the Atmosphere —
And even when the Snow
Heaves Balls of Specks, like Vicious Boy
Directly in His Eye —
Does not so much as turn His Head
Busy with Majesty —
'Tis His to stimulate the Earth —
...
THAT Varius huffs, and fights it out to-day,
Who ran last week so cowardly away,
In Codrus may surprise the little skill,
Who nothing knows of humankind, but ill:
Confining all his knowledge, and his art,
To this, that each man is corrupt at heart.
But thou who Nature thro...
Fair Julia Amanda, now since it is peace,
Methinks your hostilities also should cease;
The shafts from your eyes, and the snares of your smile,
Should cease---or at least be suspended awhile:
'Tis cruel to point your artillery of charms
Against the poor lads who have laid down their arms.
...
When our first parents were from Eden driven
To wander exiled in this world of care,
Hope changed to fear, and memory to despair;
But once, to their posterity 't is given
The vision of that blissful home to share:
Whene'er two wedded souls as...
Dear Catherine, and David too,
How very sweet it was of you
To telegraph that you were here,
New-lighted on this lower sphere.
That though unlooked for, both had come,
To bring into the earthly home
The light and joy of Paradise
...
And wishes, had he any?
Just his sigh, accented,
Had been legible to me.
And was he confident until
Ill fluttered out in everlasting well?
And if he spoke, what name was best,
What first,
What one broke off with
At the drowsiest?
Was he afraid, or tranquil...
A poet led me once, in chains of flowers,
A pilgrimage beneath the Orient skies;
And there I dreamed I walked in Eden's bowers,
He touched his harp, and when he sang of Love,
Then all my heart was to the poet given;
For his sweet tones seemed...