Category Poets

Through what transports of Patience I reached the stolid Bliss To breathe my Blank without thee Attest me this and this — By that bleak exultation I won as near as this Thy privilege of dying Abbreviate me this —

Through those old Grounds of memory, The sauntering alone Is a divine intemperance A prudent man would shun. Of liquors that are vended ‘Tis easy to beware But statutes do not meddle With the internal bar. Pernicious as the sunset…

Three Weeks passed since I had seen Her — Some Disease had vext ‘Twas with Text and Village Singing I beheld Her next And a Company — our pleasure To discourse alone — Gracious now to me as any —…

Though the great Waters sleep, That they are still the Deep, We cannot doubt — No vacillating God Ignited this Abode To put it out —

Those not live yet Who doubt to live again — “Again” is of a twice But this — is one — The Ship beneath the Draw Aground — is he? Death — so — the Hyphen of the Sea —…

Those final Creatures, – who they are – That faithful to the close Administer her ecstasy, But just the Summer knows.

Those cattle smaller than a Bee That herd upon the eye — Whose tillage is the passing Crumb — Those Cattle are the Fly — Of Barns for Winter — blameless — Extemporaneous stalls They found to our objection —…

Those — dying then, Knew where they went — They went to God’s Right Hand — That Hand is amputated now And God cannot be found — The abdication of Belief Makes the Behavior small — Better an ignis fatuus…

This slow Day moved along — I heard its axles go As if they could not hoist themselves They hated motion so — I told my soul to come — It was no use to wait — We went and…

This Me — that walks and works — must die, Some fair or stormy Day, Adversity if it may be Or wild prosperity The Rumor’s Gate was shut so tight Before my mind was born Not even a Prognostic’s push…