• Whole Gulfs — of Red, and Fleets — of Red —

    And Crews — of solid Blood —

    Did place upon the West — Tonight —

    As 'twere specific Ground —


    And They — appointed Creatures —

    In Authorized Arrays —

    Due — promptly — as a Drama —

    That bows — and disappears —

  • Whose are the little beds, I asked

    Which in the valleys lie?

    Some shook their heads, and others smiled —

    And no one made reply.


    Perhaps they did not hear, I said,

    I will inquire again —

    Whose are the beds — the tiny beds

    So thick upon the plain?


    'Tis Daisy, in the...

  • Whose cheek is this?

    What rosy face

    Has lost a blush today?

    I found her — "pleiad" — in the woods

    And bore her safe away.


    Robins, in the tradition

    Did cover such with leaves,

    But which the cheek —

    And which the pall

    My scrutiny deceives.

  • Whose Pink career may have a close

    Portentous as our own, who knows?

    To imitate these Neighbors fleet

    In awe and innocence, were meet.

  • "Why do I love" You, Sir?

    Because —

    The Wind does not require the Grass

    To answer — Wherefore when He pass

    She cannot keep Her place.


    Because He knows — and

    Do not You —

    And We know not —

    Enough for Us

    The Wisdom it be so —


    The Lightning — never...

  • Why make it doubt — it hurts it so —

    So sick — to guess —

    So strong — to know —

    So brave — upon its little Bed

    To tell the very last They said

    Unto Itself — and smile — And shake —

    For that dear — distant — dangerous — Sake —

    But — the Instead — the Pinching fear

    That Something —...

  •  
    * * *


    Why should I care for the men of thames

    Or the cheating waves of charterd streams

    Or shrink at the little blasts of fear

    That the hireling blows into my ear


    Tho born on the cheating banks of Thames

    Tho his waters bathed my infant limbs

    The Ohio shall wash...

  • Why should we hurry — why indeed?

    When every way we fly

    We are molested equally

    By immortality.

    No respite from the inference

    That this which is begun,

    Though where its labors lie

    A bland uncertainty

    Besets the sight

    This mighty night —


  • * * *


    Why was Cupid a Boy

    And why a boy was he

    He should have been a Girl

    For ought that I can see

    5For he shoots with his bow

    And the Girl shoots with her Eye

    And they both...