• 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 —

  • So has a Daisy vanished

    From the fields today —

    So tiptoed many a slipper

    To Paradise away —


    Oozed so in crimson bubbles

    Day's departing tide —

    Blooming — tripping — flowing

    Are ye then with God?

  • So I pull my Stockings off

    Wading in the Water

    For the Disobedience' Sake

    Boy that lived for "or'ter"


    Went to Heaven perhaps at Death

    And perhaps he didn't

    Moses wasn't fairly used —

    Ananias wasn't —

  • So large my Will

    The little that I may

    Embarrasses

    Like gentle infamy —


    Affront to Him

    For whom the Whole were small

    Affront to me

    Who know His Meed of all.


    Earth at the best

    Is but a scanty Toy —

    Bought, carried Home

    To Immortality...

  • So much Summer

    Me for showing

    Illegitimate —

    Would a Smile's minute bestowing

    Too exorbitant


    To the Lady

    With the Guinea

    Look — if She should know

    Crumb of Mine

    A Robin's Larder

    Would suffice to stow —

  • So proud she was to die

    It made us all ashamed

    That what we cherished, so unknown

    To her desire seemed —

    So satisfied to go

    Where none of us should be

    Immediately — that Anguish stooped

    Almost to Jealousy —

  • So the Eyes accost — and sunder

    In an Audience —

    Stamped — occasionally — forever —

    So may Countenance


    Entertain — without addressing

    Countenance of One

    In a Neighboring Horizon —

    Gone — as soon as known —

  • So well that I can live without —

    I love thee — then How well is that?

    As well as Jesus?

    Prove it me

    That He — loved Men —

    As I — love thee —

  • Softened by Time's consummate plush,

    How sleek the woe appears

    That threatened childhood's citadel

    And undermined the years.


    Bisected now, by bleaker griefs,

    We envy the despair

    That devastated childhood's realm,

    So easy to repair.

  •     Happy the man, whose wish and care

        A few paternal acres bound,

        Content to breathe his native air

                    In his own ground.


        Whose herds with milk, whose fields with bread,

        Whose flocks supply him with attire;

        Whose trees in summer yield him shade,
    ...