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Category Poets

Of My Life

I weary of my lifeThrough the long sultry day,While happy creatures playTheir harmless lives away:— What is my life?I weary of my lifeThrough the slow tedious night,While, earth and heaven’s delight,The moon walks forth in white:— What is my life?If…

Cannot Sweeten

If that’s water you wash your hands inWhy is it black as ink is black?—Because my hands are foul with my folly:Oh the lost time that comes not back!— If that’s water you bathe your feet inWhy is it red…

In a Certain Place

I found Love in a certain placeAsleep and cold—or cold and dead?—All ivory-white upon his bed,All ivory-white his face.His hands were foldedOn his quiet breast,To his figure laid at restChilly bed was moulded. His hair hung lax about his brow,I…

What to Do?

Omy love and my own own deary! What shall I do? my love is weary. Sleep, O friend, on soft downy pillow, Pass, O friend, as wind or as billow, And I’ll wear the willow. No stone at his head…

Husband and Wife

“Oh kiss me once before I go,To make amends for sorrow:Oh kiss me once before we part,For we mayn’t meet to-morrow. “And I was wrong to force your will,And wrong to mar your life:But kiss me once before we partBecause…

En Route

1Life flows down to death: we cannot bind That current that it should not flee:Life flows down to death, as rivers find The inevitable sea. 2Wherefore art thou strange, and not my mother?Thou hast stolen my heart and broken it:Would…

If I Had Words

If I had words, if I had wordsAt least to vent my misery:—But muter than the speechless herdsI have no voice wherewith to cry.I have no strength to life my hands,I have no heart to lift mine eye,My soul is…

A Sketch

The blindest buzzard that I know Does not wear wings to spread and stir; Nor does my special mole wear fur,And grub among the roots below: He sports a tail indeed, but then It’s to a coat : he’s man…

Under Willows

Under willows among the gravesOne was walking, ah welladay!Where each willow her green boughs waves,Come April prime, come May.Under willows among the gravesShe met her lost love, ah welladay!Where in Autumn each wild wind ravesAnd whirls sere leaves away. He…

Meeting

If we shall live, we live:If we shall die, we die:If we live we shall meet again: But to-night, good-bye.One word, let but one be heard— What, not one word?If we sleep we shall wake again And see to-morrow’s light:If…