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I Am So Sure...
What is it? I want to whisper here, I am not so sure.
What words, I am to endorse here, I am not so sure.
What my fingers are up to, I am not so sure.
This mind! So playful! Playing what? I am not so sure.
To A Bird At Dawn
O bird that somewhere yonder sings,
In the dim hour 'twixt dreams and dawn,
Lone in the hush of sleeping things,
In some sky sanctuary withdrawn;
Richard Le Gallienne
I heard-'twas on a morning, but when it was and where,
Except that well I heard it, I neither know nor care-
I heard, and, oh, the sunlight was shining in the blue,
A little water singing as little waters do.
R. C. Lehmann
I weep for Adonais-he is dead!
O, weep for Adonais! though our tears
Thaw not the frost which binds so dear a head!
And thou, sad Hour, selected from all years
Percy Bysshe Shelley
A June Night
Ten o'clock: the broken moon
Hangs not yet a half hour high,
Yellow as a shield of brass,
In the dewy air of June,
Sometime now past in the Autumnal Tide,
When Phœbus wanted but one hour to bed,
The trees all richly clad, yet void of pride,
Were gilded o're by his rich golden head.
Endymion: Book Iv
Muse of my native land! loftiest Muse!
O first-born on the mountains! by the hues
Of heaven on the spiritual air begot:
Long didst thou sit alone in northern grot,
Millions of massive rain-drops
Have fallen all around;
They have danced on the house-tops,
They have hidden in the ground.
I was asking for something specific and perfect for my city,
Whereupon, lo! upsprang the aboriginal name!
Now I see what there is in a name, a word, liquid, sane, unruly, musical, self-sufficient;
When I Heard At The Close Of The Day
When I heard at the close of the day how my name
had been receiv'd with plaudits in the capitol, still
it was not a happy night for me that follow'd;
And else, when I carous'd, or when my plans were accomplish'd,
The Three Bares
Ma tried to wash her garden slacks but couldn't get 'em clean
And so she thought she'd soak 'em in a bucket o' benzine.
It worked all right. She wrung 'em out then wondered what she'd do
With all that bucket load of high explosive residue.
April Rain Song
Let the rain kiss you
Let the rain beat upon your head with silver liquid drops
Let the rain sing you a lullaby
The rain makes still pools on the sidewalk
A Masque Presented At Ludlow Castle, 1634, Before
The Earl Of Bridgewater, Then President Of Wales.
The "bull Spring."
When the burning sun of Summer shines from out a brassy sky,
And has parched and browned the meadows, and the creek's run dry,
O sweet it is to wander there and hear the water sing
It's rippling song of gladness from the
George W. Doneghy
Darling, you think it's love, it's just a midnight journey.
Best are the dales and rivers removed by force,
as from the next compartment throttles "Oh, stop it, Bernie,"
yet the rhythm of those paroxysms is exactly yours.
See this bowl of purple wine,
Life-blood of the lusty vine!
All the warmth of summer suns
In the vintage liquid runs,
When I asked my mother why they were called sand tarts,
she couldn't answer me-
perhaps this ravenous curiosity causes my brother
A night the half-moon was like a dancing-girl,
No, like a drunkard's last half-dollar
Shoved on the polished bar of the eastern hill-range,
Sketches In The Exhibition
What various objects strike with various force,
Achilles, Hebe, and Sir Watkin's horse!
Here summer scenes, there Pentland's stormy ridge,
Lords, ladies, Noah's ark, and Cranford bridge!
William Lisle Bowles
WHEN to my Eyes
Whilst deep sleep others catches,
Thine host of spies,
The stars, shine in their watches,
ACROSS the barren moors the wild, wild wind
Went sweeping on, and with his sobs and shrieks
Filled the still night, and tore the woof of clouds
Through which the moon did shed her cold clear light.
the imagined center, our tongues
grew long to please it, licking
Snow-bound: A Winter Idyl
To the Memory of the Household It Describes
This Poem is Dedicated by the Author:
"As the Spirits of Darkness be stronger in the dark, so Good Spirits,which be Angels of Light, are augmented not only by the Divine lightof the Sun, but also by our common Wood Fire: and as the CelestialFire drives away dark spirits, so also this our Fire of Wood doth thesame." -- Cor. Agrippa, Occult Philosophy,
John Greenleaf Whittier
After the May time, and after the June time,
Rare with blossoms and perfumes sweet,
Cometh the round world's royal noon time,
The red midsummer of blazing heat.
Ella Wheeler Wilcox
The light is drawn out of the leaves and grass,
And the sweet flowers grow pale in the gray air,
As if their beauty's essence e'en did pass
With the departing light from all things fair,
In his dim chapel day by day
The organist was wont to play,
And please himself with fluted reveries;
And all the spirit's joy and strife,
O dweller in the valley, lift thine eyes
To where, above the drift of cloud, the stone
Endures in silence, and to God alone
Upturns its furrowed visage, and is wise.
The Soul's Destiny
In the liquid vault of ether hung the starry gems of light,
Blazing with unwonted splendor on the ebon brow of night;
Far across the arching concave like a train of silver lay,
Nebulous, and white, and dreamy, heaven's star-wrought Milky Way.
Frances Ellen Watkins Harper
O'RE the smooth enameld green
Where no print of step hath been,
Follow me as I sing,
And touch the warbled string.
Now leave the Porch, to vision now retreat,
Where the next rapture glows with varying heat;
Now change the time, and change the Temple scene,
The following Seer forewarns a future reign.
Delia. - An Ode.
Fair the face of orient day,
Fair the tints of op'ning rose,
But fairer still my Delia dawns,
More lovely far her beauty blows.
The King of Scotland, years and years ago,
Convened his courtiers in a gallant row
And thus addressed them:
It was deadly cold in Danbury town
One terrible night in mid November,
A night that the Danbury folk remember
For the sleety wind that hammered them down,
R. C. Lehmann
'Tis well with words, oh masters, ye have sought,
To turn men's eyes yearning to the great and true,
Yet first take heed to what your own hands do;
By deeds not words the souls of men are taught;