It's all I have to bring today--
This, and my heart beside--
This, and my heart, and all the fields--
And all the meadows wide--
Be sure you count--should I forget
Some one the sum could tell--
This, and my heart, and all the Bees
Which in the Clover dwell.
-
-
If there be graveyards in the heart
From which no roses spring,
A place of wrecks and old gray tombs
From which no birds take wing,
Where linger buried hopes and dreams
Like ghosts among the graves,
Why, buried hopes are dismal things,
And lonely ghosts are knaves!If there come dreary winter days,
When summer... -
I Came to buy a smile — today —
But just a single smile —
The smallest one upon your face
Will suit me just as well —
The one that no one else would miss
It shone so very small —
I'm pleading at the "counter" — sir —
Could you afford to sell —
I've Diamonds — on my fingers —...I'm sorry for the Dead — Today —
It's such congenial times
Old Neighbors have at fences —
It's time o' year for Hay.
And Broad — Sunburned Acquaintance
Discourse between the Toil —
And laugh, a homely species
That makes the Fences smile —
It seems so straight to lie...It's all I have to bring today —
This, and my heart beside —
This, and my heart, and all the fields —
And all the meadows wide —
Be sure you count — should I forget
Some one the sum could tell —
This, and my heart, and all the Bees
Which in the Clover dwell.Lest any doubt that we are glad that they were born Today
Whose having lived is held by us in noble Holiday
Without the date, like Consciousness or Immortality —My Portion is Defeat — today —
A paler luck than Victory —
Less Paeans — fewer Bells —
The Drums don't follow Me — with tunes —
Defeat — a somewhat slower — means —
More Arduous than Balls —
'Tis populous with Bone and stain —
And Men too straight to stoop again —,
And Piles...The Wind didn't come from the Orchard — today —
Further than that —
Nor stop to play with the Hay —
Nor joggle a Hat —
He's a transitive fellow — very —
Rely on that —
If He leave a Bur at the door
We know He has climbed a Fir —
But the Fir is Where — Declare —
...Today or this noon
She dwelt so close
I almost touched her —
Tonight she lies
Past neighborhood
And bough and steeple,
Now past surmise.