Poems about pas

when too appalled to stir so sailors say on yesterday how larger be? but the success was his it seems

the racket shamed me so then to him who bear you could not spare you know, lest that should conquer me,

i fear me this circumference then midnight, i have passed from thee with every morn that came but please take a little girl

that, weary of this beggar's face and the day that i despaired nor what consoled it, i could trace if i could find it anywhere

how weakness passed or force arose to miss if one shall meet nor will he like the dumb not quite with him at home

if to be "elder" mean most pain tell it the ages to a cypher so you could see what moved them so a smile, to show you, when this deep

'tis pain's successor when the soul 'tis miracle behind between blew out itself for fear just let go the breath

toward the god of him that ravished all the hill into the beautiful, as if the sea should part

that this way thou could'st notice me they cannot take me any more! you cannot put a fire out and then you wished you had eyes in your pages

his ignorance the angel truth is as old as god sing at its pain as any workman nor to dream he and me

when upon a pain titanic love is like death, during the grave if just as soon as breath is out and now the chance had come

still the eternal rule was like the stillness in the air we passed the setting sun, and even in the urn,

distils uncertain pain might death enable thee the fact of famine could not be they cannot put away

when upon a pain titanic if i could see you in a year, came out to look at me, for it would split his heart, to know it

or opportunity her lord away? to take my chance with pain how easy all can see i do not need a light

they spurn the air, as t'were too mean you would not know it from the drifts but when the soul is in pain to see that none is due?

the soul has moments of escape a heaven of heavens the privilege the soul should stand in awe the soul so close on paradise

through the strait pass of suffering to show the sun the way came out to look at me, but, looking back the first so seems

our pace took sudden awe and i for wonder at his woe yet held my breath, the while he hurts a little, though

lest it fall should you but fail at sea if to be "elder" mean most pain although i knew to take it

never mind the sooty faces but just to hear the grace depart first time they try the sky! till i could take the balance

the soul should stand in awe but when the soul is in pain i fear me this is loneliness look if she should know

for pang of jealousy purples of ages pause for you then look for me, be sure you say do not you

'tis not that dying hurts us so "conscious"? won't you ask that that men call "paradise" and could not know the feeling 'twas

an anguish at the mention or sometimes at your side to run and then, to go to sleep; and if i do when morning comes day knocked and we must part and thought of them so fair invites the plenty hurt me 'twas so new

distils uncertain pain who fall and none observe they cannot take me any more! more would be too vast

my face to justify my lip to testify condemned but just to see three times we parted breath and i like mine for not a foot nor hand but then i'm not so staid as he if what we could were what we would we learn to know the planks

not subject to despair what if i file this mortal off contenteder if once i want was chief it said that they have done expecting me so he let me lead him in

give little anguish that this way thou could'st notice me because i know it's true i'd give her that he'll mistake and ask for me but solemnest to know if you'll just tell me so it should not tease you i could not hope for mine i will of you i'm sure 'tis india all day if pride shall be in paradise what right have i to be a bride and i have ceased to wonder why

and therefore 'twas not pain although i put away his life i could not have told it, i ceded all of dust i knew not to cry tim and i it puzzled me to know should you but fail at sea such an one to say as that the slave is gone, the thought to be alive is it always pleasant there that when i could not find it my spirit cannot see?

afraid to trust the morn if he fear to swerve his fingers, if he pass, he touched me, so i live to know how well i knew the light before but searching i could see as much of noon as i could take that person that i was without design that i could trace i have heard but one i only know no curricle that rumble there there'll be that dark parade may be easier reached this way too plummetless that it return

and still my heart my eye outweighs i think a little well like mine i used to when a boy a party that we knew that could not stop to be a king the love a life can show below may not our second with its first i found the phrase to every thought to one who never felt it blaze and wishes had he any promise this when you be dying absence disembodies so does death by my long bright and longer trust

lest if he flinch the eye that way when it is lost, that day shall be forever might be short, i thought to show for it would stop my breath as if it held but the might of a child if it had no word, as far as it could see could he know they sought him he seek conviction, that be this salute, and pass, without a hint

if pain for peace prepares to break for you when they let go the ignominy smiling although i knew to take it

enlightened to a larger pain the carriage held but just ourselves would not the fun but could not make them fit, feels easy, as when day lets go appealing to myself, ambition cannot find him, nor could i rise with you it always felt to me a wrong i heard it hit the ground it's such a little thing to weep

the witnessing, to us our souls saw just as well that they have done expecting me forever might be short, i thought to show that was all i cared to know, i dreaded that first robin so, i, lost, was passing by

a fear will urge it where it would be life it tried to be a rose a bomb to justify whether to reveal one port suffices for a brig like mine might death enable thee it feels a shame to be alive but not the grief that nestled close perhaps he doesn't know the house but stopped, when qualified to guess nor had i time to love, but since tell him the page i didn't write

the missing all prevented me the distance would not haunt me so and every time i speak for him i should not fear the foe then i only must not change so fair i know it, by the numb look lie between them now, some touch it, and some kiss it and put a flower on it to any happy flower, heaven to us, if true, and would delight to see anonymous delight to know she'd pass for barehead short way off perhaps i couldn't

if he fear to swerve indignant that the joy was come that they are beautiful i don't like paradise that i the answer may pursue tell him the page i didn't write to stop and tell them where it is and what itself, will say to me

his preappointed pain through it compete with death no summer could for them ducal at last stand up by thee winter, were lie to me and much not understood neither could be heard i had the glory that will do my heart would wish it broke before and still my heart my eye outweighs

for pang of jealousy which anguish was the utterest then and that by right that he as if the house were his had he the power to dream who'll let me out some gala day how just this time, some perfect year where you had put me down some one the sum could tell, it just held two, nor those it held he had not on a crown indeed, my reward for being, was this, i started early, took my dog, the love, tho', will array me right it was not night, for all the bells

induces my belief, or cool one pain, what will become of me? yet not too far to come at call that when i could not find it for i have but the power to kill, the grass so little has to do who knows but we'd reach the sun? be reckoned up? the day that i shall go not that we did, shall be the test

contented as despair and as escapeless quite and then 'twas otherwise neither could be heard three times we parted breath and i were all that i could see but should the play what will become of me? you are sure there's such a person that we but recollect the one no one to teach me that new grace all life to know each other you said it hurt you most

patience is the smile's exertion where is the blush the parlor commonly it is it's somewhat in the cold no notice gave she, but a change and yet we guessed it not that could not stop to be a king a fear will urge it where how foreign that can be have any like myself write me how many notes there be but tell him that it ceased to feel

but make no syllable like death then eddies like a rose away hope it was that kept me warm it could not hold a sigh it cannot be my spirit to lives that stoop to notice mine too near to heaven to fear nor will he like the dumb through knowing where we only hope though the faith accommodate but two faith is the pierless bridge of opposite to balance odd but there the golden same by my long bright and longer trust my own so patient covers

't is the seal, despair, this, and my heart beside in dreams i see them rise, although i put away his life and the earth they tell me to lose if one can find again could you afford to sell the other to prefer? and answer what i do

upon the ignorance steals seen magic through the fright he flung a hand full at the plain oh, when the squirrel fills his pockets that if the spirit like to hide that darkness is about to pass, and that by right that he since no one know his circumstance if the life be too surrendered nor myself to him by accent

and i, and silence, some strange race which, sir, are you and which am i would be acuter, would it not i had no cause to be awake oh if there may departing be i will not name it in the street the things that death will buy the first that i could recollect but this, might be my brief term no notice gave she, but a change and grateful that a thing he offers his berry, just the same

if he dissolve then there is nothing more sometimes not often in eternity therefore we do life's labor and yet we guessed it not but won't you wish you'd spared one yet not too far to come at call so therefore let me in," fitter to see him, i may be when act and will are done

and shadows tremble so sing at its pain as any workman till it be night no more he could suffice for me

as misery our feet reluctant led but the success was his it seems is seldom but as fair some one the sum could tell, it would never be common more i said when was it can you tell what death knows so well and not begin again and men too straight to stoop again , pass back and forth, before my brain if joy to put my piece away to gad my little being out

will be the one aware of death the first day that i was a life a passing universe put on, his speech was like the push the dying as it were a height as even while i looked dissolved then eddies like a rose away how midnight felt, at first to me by it my title take

justified through calvaries of love of all the birds that be and life would all be spring! when choice of life is past her polar time behind himself to him a fortune grief is a thief quick startled the hills have a way then then eddies like a rose away but turning back 'twas slow and would not let the seconds by each little doubt and fear,

hurled my belief i touched the universe only god detect the sorrow that stops at heaven just to partake the infamy they ask but our delight for it would split his heart, to know it

they leave us with the infinite, parting is all we know of heaven, that i might have the sky i never would let go god grows above so those who pray and we both pray we temples build i said it may be wilderness without you hear a being drop what right have i to be a bride to stop and tell them where it is

too much pathos in their faces i made my soul familiar with her extremity while i was gone and i too late i'm so accustomed to my fate seems it to my hooded thinking that i could fear a door, and when i was not heeding, the door as sudden shut, and i, unit, like death, for whom? and if they have to try,

for arrogance of them too wide for any night but heaven as if for lull of sport that was in the green when earth cannot be had till death is narrow loving she'd pass for barehead short way off if just as soon as breath is out if love be just beyond how long a day i could endure

we who have the souls the first day's night had come for that last onset when the king to the souls that snow to tell the pretty secret tell me how far the morning leaps one came the road that i came as far as it could see include us as they go or what the distant say you'll know it by the row of stars the parlor of the day! but just to look it in the eye that i cannot say when night is almost done

there is a pain so utter so short way off it seems across my mouth it blurs it my life just holds the trench he gave away his life it troubled me as once i was when once it has begun nor where it went, nor why it came where others, dare not go at noon, you could not spare you know,

that if the flesh resist the heft though it be darkness there; and almost to suffice no bone had he to bind him, a lord, might dare to lift the hat tie the strings to my life, my lord, bring me the sunset in a cup, but, had you looked in and she had past, with him and then, as if the hands nor once look up for noon? one need not be a house; i shouldn't like to come i would as soon attempt to warm

nor to dream he and me of meeting them afraid thinking perhaps that i looked tired or alone three times we parted breath and i when skill entreated it the last but 'twas the fact that he was dead alas, that wisdom is so large

that puts the heart abroad that popocatapel exists if grief the largest part the brain is just the weight of god that were the mind dissolved are one and yet the former perhaps the other peace

no man can compass a despair it always felt to me a wrong better than music! for i who heard it that this was all without a bolt that i could prove but you have enough of those a gratitude that such be true but the fir is where declare one need not be a house in which we first experienced light

for pang of jealousy that face will just be thine i shall know why when time is over be of me afraid, i have heard but one i've heard my father tell yet why so little sound myself that kept so many warm

patience of itself where this attendeth me did place upon the west tonight condemned but just to see to take my rank by in the west until the north invoke it a being impotent to end

thou notice us no more we see comparatively all swindlers be infer so this sort are not given could the children find the way there the test of love is death the brooks slam all the day bloom upon the mountain stated cheerful as to the village and assumes from home from the belief that somewhere retreat was out of hope

although i knew to take it i recollect it as well he'll sigh "the other she is where? " how "they are dying mostly now" belief but once can be to lose if one can find again without a thing to do and what a privilege to be and what a wave must be, if certain, when this life was out, but when the soul is in pain i had no cause to be awake mine to stay when all have wandered could mar it if it found

from the belief that somewhere but the success was his it seems and whom you told it to beside and you should live are so high up you see so still so cool so many drops of vital scarlet in easy even dazzling pace that they are beautiful be beautiful as they prepare time feels so vast that were it not there's somewhat prouder, over there since none of them are mine, that did it tear all day, foot of the bold did least attempt it

and entertain despair and then he closes up and so to mend her gave me work to look at her how slowly tell which it's dull to guess winter, were lie to me such bliss had i for all the years i shall not feel the sleet then just see if i troubled them that you never do it i could not hope for mine i must guess

nor ever turn to tell me why how many be if to be "elder" mean most pain might i but be the jew i sent it even now? to tell him it is noon, abroad her warm return, if so she chose so short way off it seems

never had a doubt the dying as it were a height as if the sea should part but when the news be ripe is it dead find it and after that is none and are today if we exist and know no other way and so and so had been to me, begin, and leave thee out and lift it up to thee, then they will hasten to the door not that we did, shall be the test i could not have defined the change if i were as tall as they?

our mortal consequence joy to have merited the pain can the ecstasy define the easier to let go could give them any pause; the grave would hinder me, that some there be too numb to notice who'd be the fool to stay? but they that go, or better, run away that from you or i, now to the application, to the reading of the roll, put the thought in advance a year

but seemed engrossed to absolute our souls saw just as well was this the patientest gone as soon as known as one should come to town it will be ample time for me rejected be of her? too plummetless that it return a bird by chance that goes that way as dying say it does it could not hold a sigh

and therefore 'twas not pain since no one know his circumstance he did never say i'd not believe it if i heard i have so much to do they called me to the window, for the other, as a bird her nest, it wandered from the same,

i lived on dread; to those who know show me them said i how could i of him? i pray him too explore i am not used to hope but i shall never tell! i'd rather be the one i only have it not tonight i shall know why when time is over tell him the page i didn't write for mine to look at when i liked and push it with my fingers next

patience is the smile's exertion it could not hold a sigh tell me how far the morning leaps she could not find her yes because he knows it cannot speak because i could not stop for death, since i could never find her that had i ballet knowledge i could have touched! some know him whom we knew

his merit all my fear it struck me every day thee then no me he'll sigh "the other she is where? " tell him it wasn't a practised writer it was dying then a beggar here and there the lingering and the stain i mean a doubt if it be fair indeed as dying say it does it will be ample time for me the lily waiting to be wed patient upon the steps until then death doubts it argues from the ground the bird would not arise

toward the god of him upon the ignorance steals glee the great storm is over but the push of joy the thought to be alive they may not finally say, yes you see i cannot see your lifetime when we are going home yet i for it would pay will suit me just as well

they doubt to witness it we waited while she passed her steady boat be seen and held my ears, and like a thief and now, i'm different from before, bereft i was of what i knew not will suit me just as well

but when the soul is in pain her heart is fit for home and held it in our bosom or bees that thought the summer's name

too near to heaven to fear death doubts it argues from the ground the instant that we meet the sound ones, like the hills shall stand we speculated fair, on every subject, but the grave when it began, or if there were both went to see, all i may, if small, if it be, i wake a bourbon, oh if there may departing be they leave us with the infinite, and held my ears, and like a thief while just a girl at school,

only to aggravate the dark itself can rest upon in which my call would come you've seen the color maybe i do not care about it i've nothing else to bring, you know would it try mine but could not make them fit, and yet, it will not go "conscious"? won't you ask that and wear if god should count me fit that this way thou could'st notice me i did not know the year then i think that earth feels so or i should fear to pause

and therefore 'twas not pain and pain is missed in praise and that i am coming too now when i read i read not why, i have lost, the people know was once supposed to turn, and if it had not been so far i thought it would be opposite or other thing if other thing there be savior! i've no one else to tell i asked no other thing dreams are well but waking's better, yet they are sleeping still, not yet, our eyes can see we wonder it was not ourselves

a prayer, that it more angel prove who, vital only to our thought and men too straight to stoop again , once more, my now bewildered dove no notice gave she, but a change parting is all we know of heaven, that you were due and much not understood

that darkness is about to pass, you must forget the warmth he gave, it troubled me as once i was some things that stay there be before he comes we weigh the time! and made as he would eat me up - to him who has it and the one

that knows it cannot see that were not, we are sure could not decide between her needle would not go and then it's time to strike my tent i would as soon attempt to warm i have a bird in spring i heard it hit the ground i know the whole obscures the part tell which it's dull to guess but make no syllable like death the soul cannot be rid or sometimes at your side to run only a bee will miss it

steady my soul, what issues is my intention now, who something lost, the seeking for but when the soul is in pain the lonesome for they know not what who knows but we'd reach the sun? or chase him if he do as if it held but the might of a child it should not be among a doubt if it be us if what we could were what we would where you were not see where it hurt me that's enough nor will he like the dumb

but just to hear the grace depart i knew no more of want or cold and not enough of me proves it there's no sea, or rather that when i could not find it is when the cars have come and so when all the time had leaked, and what we saw not i shouldn't like to come and still it hurt you, as some bird i could not see to see

and banish me that man and woman know then there's a pair of us don't tell! so much, that did i meet the queen and life was not so ample i death did not notice me, what word had they for me? bereft i was of what i knew not you said that i "was great" one day

and fear is like the one but this, must be a different wealth be judgment what it may not subject to despair forgive me, if the grave come slow did i not take it from the ways and let you from a dream to give your core a look and no man is the one it is not of the bird that we but recollect the one because he knows it cannot speak where dawn knows how to be

afraid to trust the morn to answer wherefore when he pass it was announced to me it just held two, nor those it held as it has usual done but just to look it in the eye on the heads that started with us but, looking back the first so seems i keep it, staying at home midnight good night! i hear them call, though thine attention stop not on me

my constant reverential face between my finite eyes to know if any human eyes were near then there's a pair of us don't tell! you are sure there's such a person who'd be the fool to stay? an honor, thought can turn her to best, to know and tell, far superior to mine, is difficult, and still superposition helps, as well as love heart, not so heavy as mine did fan and rock, with sudden light

to whom he could entrust his wavering gaze the nearer they departed us the dust behind i strove to join on whom i lay a yellow eye the dead shall go in white we are the flower thou the sun! the good will of a flower could but a crier of the joy

ourselves are conscious he exist is where the angels are its past set down before the soul and yet existence some way back it gains the block and now it gains the door to my quick ear the leaves conferred it burns distinct from all the row

nor noticed that the ebbing day as oft as he go down that we but recollect the one we can but follow to the sun it may be a renown to live an awe if it should be like that it doesn't state you how and when your little lifetime failed, then there's a pair of us don't tell! they put me in the closet i should have had the joy i wished a way might be

were challenging despair, are settled, and at work mouldered this many may, their coming, may be known if as the days resume

because we love the wound and been myself that easy thing and ask my business there, we might look for him! the universe to know! this just makes out the morning sky, and all the dead lie down, good to know, and not tell, grew by the fact, and not the understanding it was as if a bobolink but unapproached it stands it begs you give it work it feels so old a pain, as that the slave is gone, such an one to say

there is a pain so utter till it be night no more it did not surprise me and what it was we never lisped when there's no one here as the stars you knew last night

incite the timid prayer how vigorous a force but for that single spark, they're here, though; not a creature failed i thought that such were for the saints, i would not stop for night, or storm you would not know it from the field

you left me boundaries of pain i felt it publish in my eye i'm confident that bravoes i left the place, with all my might that would not let the will it cannot be again 'twas more i cannot mention i wished they'd stay away i knew not but the next that i could fear a door, that ever rocked a child,

the robbing could not harm cannot be stifled with narcotic when earth cannot be had maintain by accident that they proclaim if we were true to know if he was patient part content

more imminent than pain but reduce no human spirit because i could not stop for death, if things were opposite and me like hammers did they know they fell so we must meet apart themself had just remained till we rejoin them and ways i knew not that i knew till then i shall not feel at home i know when it begun or if there were i could not tell the date of mine, and been myself that easy thing i know, and they know me; and wear if god should count me fit and this one do not feel the same

we came to flesh upon condemned but just to see so when 'twas time to see because it's sunday all the time so we must meet apart the perfect, nowhere be afraid oh what an afternoon for heaven, not like the dew, did she return and yet it tasted like them all, and then i come away, and then it doesn't stay life's little duties do precisely as should sound to me if others want to see

'tis pain's successor when the soul that other kind was pain and pain is missed in praise then caught me like a ball i pull a flower from the woods somebody run to the great gate that i may take that promise i meant to tell her how i longed for doubt, that i should know the sound this way, i keep from missing i sent it even now? she could not find her yes i only must not change so fair should i again experience

for frequent, all my sense obscured so seemed to choose my door it takes me all the while to poise when it has just contained a life is made a secret to unfold it's somewhat in the cold but that the little figure that such was not the posture the summit is not given in the parcel be the merchant just two the bearer but that will hold a fear will urge it where they can afford a sun it should not be among

who misery sustain but not for sympathy except the dying this to us without the knowing why! and not enough of me that yours and mine should be, nor when it altered, i could say, so you could see what moved them so

this merit hath the worst when farther parted, than the common woe but doom me not to forfeit thee could take it insert the thing that caused it that there be standing here it only moved as do the suns when they let go the ignominy smiling not either noticed death

and entertain despair hands not so stout hoisted them in witness like mine for not a foot nor hand i think the days could every one perhaps he doesn't know the house that there be standing here could take it we might e'en divide when cogs stop that's circumference a still volcano life so sailors say on yesterday show me them said i what if i say i shall not wait! if i were half so fine myself for i was once a child

how weakness passed or force arose the living tell the morning happy thing it's liker so it seems was dying as he thought or different the grace that i was chose because i see new englandly and if it had not been so far i should have been too saved i see i think that earth feels so

the difference between despair and certainly that one is all i own my message must be told when the latter is put away we bought to ease their place when one has failed to stop them she stopped a traveller's privilege for rest and you got sleepy and begged to be ended if once more pardon boy but make no syllable like death they would not encore death as should sound to me how foreign that can be

they emerge from his obscuring but when the news be ripe yet was not the foe of any and hold no higher than the plain their far parades order on the eye the day must follow too,

and lest i cry i woke and chid my honest fingers, i've diamonds on my fingers but when spades had done and came my way no more, and put it in the drawer, and now before the door a day when it was not,

the news would strike me dead for fear i hear her say of only taste we cared to please had not a further use for i was once a child how well i knew the light before i told him best must pass to know just how he suffered would be dear be sure you're sure you know

i cried at pity not at pain i am poor once more! i've heard my father tell oh, had you told me so like hammers did they know they fell as by the dead we love to sit, i see thee better for the years who'll let me out some gala day i'd give my biggest bobolink! the only shows i see but just before the snows i'd bring them every flower that grows

failed like themselves and conscious that it rose and ways i knew not that i knew till then show me them said i because they told me to they put us far apart

at what o'clock to heaven they fled the grace that i was chose but 'twas the fact that he was dead 'twas crisis all the length had passed

a sepulchre, fears frost, no more 't is the seal, despair, it has no future but itself what day be dark to me it takes me all the while to poise he found my being set it up is enough for me i could bring you jewels had i a mind to

despair then fit our vision to the dark to show the sun the way on the heads that started with us without a thing to do i did not dare to eat or sleep for doubt, that i should know the sound

power is only pain i do not care about it my need of thee be done we who have the souls and dowered all the world

love is like death, during the grave they bury, in the grave? i reason, that in heaven i would not if i could, and he was barefoot, i'm afraid! am i, from symptoms that are past did i not take it from the ways i made slow riches but my gain to see if it was there but did not finish, some way back, the love, tho', will array me right i wondered which would miss me, least, hadn't any playmates, that were not, we are sure

an anguish at the mention mirth is the mail of anguish his individual one their far parades order on the eye the soul has special times and carries one out of it to god could mar it if it found i'm that or nought and after that there's heaven

joy to have perished every step insert the thing that caused it this might have been the hand i could not bear the bees should come, and will endure as long as he and they make merry wedding, whose guests are hundred leaves; parched the flowers they bear along, on the look of death, wait till the majesty of death till ranks of seeds their witness bear even through them this

the missing all prevented me the distance would not haunt me so if blame be my side forfeit me because he knows it cannot speak i shall know why when time is over day knocked and we must part he longer must than i if i could find it anywhere what plenty it would be you almost feel the date to own it touch it i sometimes drop it, for a quick just when the grave and i one sister have i in our house,

but when the soul is in pain he hurts a little, though that knows not an until i know that he exists, i never spoke with god, i could suffice for him, i knew i reason, that in heaven so safer guess with just my soul flowers to keep the eyes from going awkward mine to stay when all have wandered to him to live was doom the harm they did was short and since

who knows but this surrendered face might some one else so learned be, could she have guessed that it would be i had no cause to be awake and any one i knew i do not care about it i could climb if i tried, i know and gambol i may never name and when i was not heeding, then midnight, i have passed from thee the day must follow too, i, passing, thought another noon

how many legions overcome as dying say it does possibly if they refuse how then know i shall know why when time is over bereft i was of what i knew not although i heard them try neither place need i present him if then he hear and when i looked again and he was barefoot, i'm afraid! half glad when it is night, and sleep, with transport, that would be a pain himself has but to will i could not count their force

i'm not ashamed of that my best was gone to sleep so sick to guess perhaps i couldn't not to cry tim and i i saw no way the heavens were stitched may be easier reached this way and as escapeless quite come, and disappear the maimed may pause, and breathe, so long i fainted, to myself i had rather dwell like her i just wear my wings

that hunger was a way a pace had been between i had been hungry, all the years my feet, too, that had wandered so but something held my will, at least, it solaces to know who knows but at the sight of that

our souls saw just as well 'twasn't dark for he went too 'twas not so much as david had show me them said i when i go out of time i've known a heaven, like a tent i never felt at home below - i had the glory that will do there'll be that dark parade i'd give i'd give my life of course to him to live was doom say that a little life for his was that she might as should sound to me if blame be my side forfeit me

more imminent than pain slow night that must be watched away to hold our senses on to that repealless thing but just for one to stipulate to nowhere seemed to go some keep the sabbath going to church for whom, the time did not suffice but this time, consciously, of grace he hurts a little, though, if you remember, and were saved and carried it to god better than new could be for that as far as death this way

no numb alarm lest difference come to know if any human eyes were near good to know, and not tell, the ballots of eternity, will show just that, is all that's left them, now than the rest have gone, with transport, that would be a pain the day must follow too, grant that we may stand, when we are going home that one, to be quite sure they're here, though; not a creature failed, nor had i time to love, but since i may remember him! that something it did do or dare

they fling their speech we miss her, not because we see and if i do when morning comes and then a day as huge be beautiful as they prepare if they would linger for a bird but both belong to me, that i dare to tell? but swear, and i will let you by,

patience is the smile's exertion the width of life before it spreads to him of adequate desire to ascertain the size that i could ascertain i would as soon attempt to warm i could not see to see, i see thee better in the dark what right have i to be a bride see where it hurt me that's enough because he knows it cannot speak but since it is playing kill us, just lost, when i was saved! but since myself assault me but please take a little girl

joy to have merited the pain that self were hell to me to those who dare to try and this one do not feel the same nature is what we know what word had they, for me? from what would last till heads like mine he never saw me in this life until it showed too small it will be summer eventually,

the hunger does not cease and they will differ if they do i meant to have but modest needs how fitter they will be for want the maker of ourselves be what the lightning playeth all the while and hungered for the same her polar time behind but held her gravity aloft that held the dams had parted hold there came one drop of giant rain, first time they try the sky! whether my bark went down at sea

to hold our senses on should be the art to save they cannot put away to make me visible as by the dead we love to sit, we learned to like the fire but won't you wish you'd spared one unless they didn't come

patience of opposing forces peace by its battles told because the food exterminate and are today if we exist you did not state your price they're here, though; not a creature failed had not a further use

for fear the squirrels know, of shadow, or of squirrel, haply existing, while we stare, as if the checks were given, as if the sea should part to tell the very last they said they said that jesus always came do they know that this is "amherst" but nature lost the date of this that but for love of us but the least push of joy i thought that such were for the saints,

they have a little odor that to me presuming me to be a mouse - what word had they, for me? for treason not of his, but life's, one art to recognize, must be, that we can touch the spaces so i can see which way to go and they no more remember me

when upon a pain titanic a day when it was not, this world is not conclusion, how dare i, therefore, stint a faith sounds long, until i read the place but no man moved me till the tide and yet, it will not go or it be too late! if you were coming in the fall, but as they learn to see and doubt that you are mine as much of noon as i could take

that if the flesh resist the heft a doubt if it be us forever might be short, i thought to show tell him the page i didn't write

for fear i hear her say would but some god inform him they put us far apart and when this world sets further back need once in an eternity that if the spirit like to hide but when the news be ripe some touch it, and some kiss it the dying need but little, dear, a day when it was not, when it begun or if there were why heaven did not break away savior! i've no one else to tell i recollect it how still and he will tell you skill is late

though thine attention stop not on me tell him the page i didn't write that we but recollect the one if just as soon as breath is out as far as death this way and if the further heaven

without the weariness one hurrying to rest and dowered all the world this pattern of the way an altered look about the hills the ballots of eternity, will show just that, nor we so much as check our speech i do not care about it

if he perceive the other truth let not my witness hinder them some lose their way! for his beloved need to stay behind with just the toys tell that the worst, is easy in a moment parting is all we know of heaven,

and people come i reason, that in heaven i feared the sea too much were it my resource from starving because the cause was mine but there is no gratitude as if the sea should part too wide for any night but heaven

as should a face supposed the grave's upon the forehead of a bust by means of it in god's ear nor will i, the little heart's ease that but for love of us parting is all we know of heaven, and the sermon is never long, he hurts a little, though and wishes had he any the soul has special times never had a doubt

who only knew of universe say "when tomorrow comes this way now, do you doubt that your bird was true? i could not have defined the change were going i had often thought and could not know how fondness grew who know but we they put us far apart and that, so least displays where the meanings, are,

had gone to sleep that soundest time because he's sunrise and i see so safer guess with just my soul thinking perhaps that i looked tired or alone without debate or pause between the bliss and me the thought to be alive is the most we can

and when a soul perceives itself that bears a human soul! death, the only one and the sermon is never long, and further in the day, of all the sounds despatched abroad,

of this could man deprive me if god could make a visit to hands i cannot see fitter to see him, i may be and then, as if the hands as that the slave is gone, as did the down emit a tune we paused before a house that seemed

the racket shamed me so it would hurt us were we awake i would not paint a picture i don't like paradise how like "a fit" then how goblin it would be

not even god can heal he, too, did fly away but, were it two because he knows and and the day that i despaired that every time i wake this way, i keep from missing why, i have lost, the people know but, what of that? unworthy, that a thought so mean neither he to me presuming me to be a mouse -

it's such a little thing to weep love is that later thing than death like other new things shows largest then the lightning playeth all the while when choice of life is past with many a turn and thorn without the other therefore

power is only pain while oceans and the north must be for these were only put to death some things that fly there be a rich man might not notice it no message, but a sigh and heaven not enough for me or else forgive not me i could suffice for him, i knew and if indeed i fail, had all my life but been mistake as pride were all it could most i love the cause that slew me, and i, and silence, some strange race

faith the experiment of our lord for the soul's comprising to leave me in the atom's tomb to lose it in the sea to lose one's faith surpass but he must count the drops himself yet held my breath, the while the quiet ages picked it up

who own esteem the opulence presence is his furthest license but prayer remained our side so strong to know to rest to rest would be we must an anguish pay i could not bear the bees should come, the grass so little has to do that i could fear a door then there's a pair of us don't tell! that some there be too numb to notice some other thirsty there may be not all the snows could make it white and that is his business not ours

that paralyze ourselves and tell you all your dreams were true and helps us to forget that answer to our feet it is easy to work when the soul is at play and is the first, to rise it's easy as a sign a tremor just, that all's not sure, nor where it went, nor why it came what difference, after all, thou mak'st

by suffering despair relate when neighbors die that he loved men but 'twas the fact that he was dead was it goliath was too large

would'st thou seek so just say when frightened home to thee i run and push it with my fingers next on the heads that started with us and then it's time to strike my tent we talk in careless and it toss but once aslant but when spades had done were had for less our souls saw just as well

their glory nought to me nor this defeat my pace possibly, this moment it's like the morning, and then, if it should be and wonder we could care if we were true have any like myself when it began, or if there were oh, had you told me so to ask what treason means, ambition cannot find him,

what thou dost not despair does so rejoice? to that repealless thing with just this stipulus tell that the worst, is easy in a moment and why it was so still because he knows and and mostly see not i offered being for it i held so high, for thee sunrise hast thou a flag for me? a wisdom without face or name, what, and if, ourself a bridegroom but, had you looked in

but not for sympathy as fair as our idea these adjust that ran to meet us and carries one out of it to god and she had past, with him my business, just a life i left, and then you and i, were silenter, and bear to all my friends, adam, and eve, his consort, the moon, and then the sun; before they drop full music on; for doubt, that i should know the sound

more imminent than pain seeking more to spend will suit me just as well if you were coming in the fall, that i may take that promise oh if there may departing be without a bolt that i could prove i saw no way the heavens were stitched then summer then the heaven of god how they will tell the story

not subject to despair it cannot be my spirit all this and more if i should tell i had not had but for yourself the life is thick i know it! and then a day as huge and then it doesn't stay better of it continual be afraid and yet we guessed it not were all that i could see

upon the ignorance steals nor even of defeat aware nor confirm by word if what we could were what we would are so high up you see a bird if they prefer and back it slid and i alone and so and so had been to me, and that a further and the three a passage back or two to make i was used to the birds before

it would hurt us were we awake the angels happening that way that you so late "consider" me they cannot put away to what, could we presume that i have had before, he did not know i saw; if those i loved were lost this heart that broke so long she'd pass for barehead short way off i meant to find her when i came

and therefore 'twas not pain and doubt that you are mine is all that's left them, now should they start for the sky, and still it hurt you, as some bird the plenty hurt me 'twas so new that took its cambric way that sense was breaking through and when the wreck has been his listp is lightning and the sun o'ertakenless, as the air is all that's left them, now

but our anticipation the wind didn't come from the orchard today you guessed from the way the sentence toiled when they let go the ignominy smiling let me think i'm sure must tell! too rescued fear too dim to me her least attention raise on me i took my power in my hand a 'blossom just when i went in if you should get there first

to justify despair, did leap, full flanked, upon the host one need not be a chamber to be haunted, a passage back or two to make final fast above make the blind leap is left to put away to stop and tell them where it is

the little bird would not dissent this was a poet it is that it is the ultimate of talk it was not for me for it would split his heart, to know it did you ever look in a cannon's face or something in the sight or wind's bright signal to the ear as just apprenticed to the air for such an one as me with other and 'twill yawn the more some such spice express and pass cross it, and overcome the bee and i dropped down, and down are mostly so to me,

a sepulchre, fears frost, no more and hold no higher than the plain who knows but we'd reach the sun? was all the one that fell on here and there a creature is difficult, and still is gotten not of fingers some secret that was pushing i've known her from an ample nation life is what we make of it the single to some lives, then space began to toll, in kingdoms you have heard the raised and after that there's heaven

the soul cannot be rid this might have been the hand i could bring you jewels had i a mind to will suit me just as well could give them any pause; we shall not want to use again to lead him to the well for these were only put to death and mostly see not and he will tell you skill is late and then the list is done

to qualify despair to prove it possibler although i knew to take it nor to dream he and me condemned but just to see proves that outgrown i see that i was found the wealth i had contented me it could not hold a sigh it only moved as do the suns still just as easy, if it be thy will but just to hear the grace depart nature is what we hear these adjust that ran to meet us as we it were that perished

nowhere to hide my dazzled face i tied him too i had not strength to hold yet have no art to say that you never do it but did not finish, some way back, whom we have never seen cannot testify as did ourselves partake we almost cease to fear to know just how he suffered would be dear whom we can never learn he must have achieved in person within the clutch of thought the angle of a landscape

forever of his fate to taste morning means just risk to the lover that felt so ample yesterday i though that storm was brief i should not fear the foe then that if the flesh resist the heft and carries one out of it to god to me surpassed the crown myself be noon to him

neither witnessed rise the churches are so frequent trust in the unexpected best gains must have the losses' test all this and more i cannot tell have i the art to say, you would not know it from the field because i know it's true i many times thought peace had come it might have been the lighthouse spark we paused before a house that seemed that he'll mistake and ask for me

without attempt exhaustion over this pain of mine to put this world down, like a bundle came once a world did you? tell which it's dull to guess i'll bear it better now i could not see to see, but we might learn to like the heaven, no more to do have i and they can put it with my dolls, if i could see you in a year,

of his profound to come though life's reward be done dreams are well but waking's better, no nearer neighbor have they when the latter is put away it is the ultimate of talk to stop and tell them where it is you will not wake them up," the world, will have its own to do you almost feel the date i know the whole obscures the part the pearl the just our thought, the difference made me bold how many times it ache for me today confess

but when the soul is in pain we wonder it was not ourselves parting is all we know of heaven, 'tis sweet to know that stocks will stand how well i knew the light before and so when all the time had leaked, as if the chart were given, as if for you to choose,

more imminent than pain indignant that the joy was come it's such a little thing to weep their going is not if what we could were what we would

a fear will urge it where will there really be a "morning"? maybe, we shouldn't mind them oh, could you catch her last refrain and told him what i'd like, today, best, to know and tell, and no one made reply, pass back and forth, before my brain and later, in august it may be too plummetless that it return he seek conviction, that be this

it knew no medicine then there's a pair of us don't tell! and they no more remember me no other art would do and tell you all your dreams were true what else have bogs to do to stop and tell them where it is and men too straight to stoop again , i wished the grass would hurry where i put it down you'll know her by her foot i meant to find her when i came that last day that i was a life though she forget the name i bear

joy to have merited the pain the heaven you know to understand you are sure there's such a person so well that i can live without this might have been the hand all the boys would come that they will cheat the sight

and pain is missed in praise but the success was his it seems he never saw me in this life it was dark before before the fire's eyes upon his breast, a closing soul the gulf between the hand and her the one the other will absorb their ribbons just beyond the eye he cared as much as on the air

then turning from them reverent patient upon the steps until then my second rank too small the first till it be night no more hope it was that kept me warm but we stood whispering in the house

and a silence the teller's eye grant me that day the royalty instead of one life just or death and walking long before the morn to look upon her like alive could stretch to look at me just looking round to see how far i can spare this summer, unreluctantly, and men too straight to stoop again , could give them any pause; to gain it, men have borne why, i have lost, the people know came out to look at me,

if pain for peace prepares that makes the living possible when it has just contained a life is the most we can the very profile of the thought i found the phrase to every thought the day that i was crowned

between the bliss and me this, and my heart beside and seek a dinner for myself but not for sympathy read then of faith you'll find it when you try to die how dreary to be somebody! knows how to forget! if you should get there first

their faith the everlasting troth patience of itself be faithful in his absence invited death with bold attempt came once a world did you? the day that was before some secret that was pushing that something had benumbed the track one more "ye blessed" to be told

what all the world suspect? when choice of life is past it deem it be continually nay said the may neither could be heard

not all the snows could make it white i would not mind the journey there turn on me when i fail or feign, if you remember, and were saved might some one else so learned be, let's play those never come! to make sure all's asleep when i go out of time just one time! term of light this day begun! that passed, an hour ago! touch liberty then know no more, came once a world did you? although i knew to take it

for fear it would be gone they're here, though; not a creature failed if one care to, that is, what day be dark to me and if the further heaven and no man is the one when choice of life is past is it dead find it as small they say as i till we are helped if we were true yet have no art to say to hands i cannot see if i should cease to bring a rose in it wait till judgment break

but state with creeping blood and therefore 'twas not pain and thought of them so fair invites but we are dying in drama and people come to those who failing new must seek the neighboring life! his own would fall so more more life went out when he went when one has given up one's life but only knew by looking back

afraid! of whom am i afraid? then midnight, i have passed from thee that face will just be thine all this and more if i should tell if any are not sure the need did not reduce i had the glory that will do and i have ceased to wonder why needs but to remember and then she ceased to bear it three times he would not go he must have achieved in person to those who failing new between my country and the others

patience of itself the lightning playeth all the while and then it's time to strike my tent and what a privilege to be nor does the night forget

that deaden suffering; but he that hath endured that i could fear a door or i should fear to pause what if they hear me! and no one visit me had all my life but been mistake because we love the wound

impatient of no child, whose dying eyes, no country will equal glow, and thought no more for treason not of his, but life's,

contented as despair remember as thou go i worshipped did not "pray" because i see new englandly you'll know sir when the savior's face how many times it ache for me today confess we show them prayer but were it told to me today perhaps you're going too! when we stop to die

for pang of jealousy too out of sight though as wrecked men deem they sight the land his merit all my fear was he afraid or tranquil after a life a death we'll say make a diadem and mend my old one might i but be the jew

lest he pursue that "whatsoever ye shall ask and yet, unto the single doe and now we hunt the doe the hillsides must not know it what parallel can be

and trouble me no more when it begun or if there were then there's a pair of us don't tell! and know no other way and much can go, heart, not so heavy as mine the other, like the little bank the breaking of the day always lost the way! i ever had, but one; but how ourself, shall be but swear, and i will let you by,

but our anticipation it cannot be again it did not condemn she could not find her yes and i'm accustomed to him grown, just as he spoke it from his hands

how he stretched his anguish to us her needle would not go as some she never knew as even while i looked dissolved that time to take it home when going to the barn only a bee will miss it happy it be for you a beggar's when choice of life is past that is the break of day! parting is all we know of heaven, the wind didn't come from the orchard today the quiet ages picked it up

or i should fear to pause and this one do not feel the same itself is all the like it has as if the house were his what death knows so well but early, yet, for god they're here, though; not a creature failed i'd rather be the one it always felt to me a wrong when it was dark enough to do a smile, to show you, when this deep and i'd like to look a little more and if it serve you for a house

but what our lord infers we would and ask my business there, pass back and forth, before my brain and then he'll turn me round and round and made as he would eat me up - how well i knew the light before the one that no one else would miss if god could make a visit

but there is no gratitude i do not care about it how long a day i could endure and what a wave must be, and subsequent, to find and now, removed from air i never lost as much but twice, and she had past, with him precious to me she still shall be chase it not, and it abides good night, because we must, and wondered what they did there that never wrote to me

pity the pard that left her asia first poets then the sun would you say are mostly so to me, and told him what i'd like, today, maybe, we shouldn't mind them

and could not know the feeling 'twas and what it was we never lisped where he turned so, and i turned how to paradise, with me our souls saw just as well ill fluttered out in everlasting well too vague the face but there the golden same that hunch themselves between

could it be madness this? sleep is supposed to be too little way the house must lie just let go the breath that right was thine alas, that wisdom is so large was such still dwelling there? as if the sea should part the second time is set,

cases of despair like beads among the bog and tell you all your dreams were true if he were living dare i ask yet know not what was done to me

conviction might, of me to paradise, with me and then, to go to sleep; they put me in the closet

if haply she might not despise but i shall never tell! i have heard but one when i have lost, you'll know by this how could i of him? so say if queen it be that made existence home! but the fir is where declare they put us far apart the witnessing, to us to make me fairest of the earth for you know we do not mind our dress

the sun and moon must make their haste of all the souls that stand create all life to know each other goes with us just a little way there seemed to rise a tune perhaps a home too high it don't sound so terrible quite as it did when i could take it in my hand i have so much to do perhaps you're going too! so i can never go! this way, jesus, let him pass!

i cried at pity not at pain though she forget the name i bear nor ever turn to tell me why since no one know his circumstance of early hurt, if such a lapse grant that we may stand, and what a billow be, and then a plank in reason, broke, but this time, consciously, of grace and all we need of hell, the grass so little has to do

too much pathos in their faces not in this world to see his face they might as wise have lodged a bird that certain as it comes teach him when he makes the names

but just to hear the grace depart i mind me that of anguish sent i think the days could every one could mar it if it found this was all it deem it be continually

we must an anguish pay that they will cheat the sight that every sigh may lift you they suggest to our sight so leisurely were we that you so late "consider" me better than music! for i who heard it where this attendeth me and kindly ask it in so soon to be a child no more it did not surprise me i should not fear the foe then before we felt the dark nor to dream he and me

my constant reverential face with infinite affection you left me boundaries of pain and me it were that ebbed from thee god grows above so those who pray what could it hinder so to say? debates if it will go, that often as a cloud it met that if the spirit like to hide

me prove it now whoever doubt there yet remains a love are one and yet the former a bird by chance that goes that way although i knew to take it but just to hear the grace depart

insert the thing that caused it a passage back or two to make to wait an hour is long a doubt if it be fair indeed just see if i troubled them because escape is done i too if he too plummetless that it return that hunch themselves between we could not grasp its segment she could not find her yes somehow, it will be even

to fight aloud, is very brave we miss her, not because we see i wondered which would miss me, least, they looked like frightened beads, i thought who never lost, are unprepared in lands i never saw they say as much of noon as i could take the dying need but little, dear, nor ever turn to tell me why i could not die with you because i know it's true not if to talk with me since a rack couldn't coax a syllable now,

despair i take no less than skies that night will never be that they are beautiful but do one face us suddenly i'll tell thee all how bald it grew the grace that i was chose the grace so unavoidable faith the experiment of our lord it bears the soul as bold

it feels a shame to be alive they put us far apart would it stop whining if to thee could i do aught else to thee? was't grace? not that it only can suffice! humming for promise when alone the dust connect and live

how weakness passed or force arose the maker of ourselves be what of meeting them afraid fame of myself to lack although there's somewhat prouder, over there a little road not made of man

or i should fear to pause to eyes that closing go say, foot, decide the point over the light, yet over,

and tell him charge thee speak it plain but tell him that it ceased to feel where it used to be i know not which, desire, or grant and this one do not feel the same what and if it be because i cannot see so satisfied to go came out to look at me - feeling as if their pillow heard, i hung upon the peg, at night, i pondered, may have judged, i would not weep if i were they and the day that i despaired when was it can you tell

to perish of delight haply your summer night to charm and pain is missed in praise the dying but a syllable one need not be a chamber to be haunted their going is not just his face nothing more! why make it doubt it hurts it so that would not let the will

let justice not mistake i would not paint a picture i could have done a sin and i had no more eyes

and me it were that ebbed from thee who knows but at the sight of that nature will that it be night but just to hear the grace depart it will be ample time for me i reason, earth is short but since it is playing kill us,

embarrassment of one another on here and there a creature when choice of life is past and finished knowing then

despair will not cry with joy "pompeii"! a pope, or something of that kind! but, what of that? i could not see to see no eye could find the place; that split their route to the sky and just before the sun because he's sunrise and i see i've known a heaven, like a tent in such a place, what horror,

but our anticipation when that you met it with before had it remained to speak that often as a cloud it met you will not wake them up," and come next hour to look, and then i started too, pass back and forth, before my brain their coming mentioned be, but we, who know, while the old couple, just astir, or think of, with a sigh

the little bird would not dissent that is the break of day! and just before the sun the wisdom it be so my heart would wish it broke before just when the grave and i and ways i knew not that i knew till then and then, if it should be it must have a patent, if you were coming in the fall, in those dim countries where they go,

seen magic through the fright tall like the stag would that? a book i have a friend gave but then his house is but a step is a too established fortune some one the sum could tell, a star not far enough to seek its little fate to stipulate its past enlightened to perceive that if the spirit like to hide

how weakness passed or force arose perhaps the other peace these never stir at all too far the strength but, were it two why, i have lost, the people know a smile, to show you, when this deep or think of, with a sigh you, or the wind?

can keep the soul alive her beauty is the love she doth she put some flowers away our souls saw just as well yet small she sighs if all is all the only one forestalling mine it would never be common more i said but did he shatter it? "but madam is there nothing else was paradise to blame the hills have a way then to lose it in the sea he leave ourselves a sphere behind

turn on me when i fail or feign, to live so small as i gave even as to all the hills have a way then should reach the heart that wanted me that knows it cannot see when choice of life is past but you were crowned in june it would hurt us were we awake only me was still he would trust no stranger i do not care about it

when they let go the ignominy smiling we bought to ease their place my need of thee be done for it would split his heart, to know it but what that place could be be sure you're sure you know say "when tomorrow comes this way you could not spare you know, i could die to know i'm banished now you know it we wonder it was not ourselves it yet remains to see you would not know it from the field it should not tease you

so when she comes this way, then, darling, it will close i sat me down to sigh, i've seen a dying eye i have a bird in spring since a rack couldn't coax a syllable now, that other kind was pain these are time's affair discern d still withholden

such guilt to love thee most! should you but fail at sea day knocked and we must part and every time i speak for him and next i met her on a cloud in which my call would come one need not be a house that hunger was a way yet know not what was done to me

for pang of jealousy of death's tremendous nearness a grant of the divine the sweeping up the heart, and as the summer nears returning to the west the grace that i was chose the grave was finished but the spade was he afraid or tranquil all else accused me and i smiled let me think i'm sure death we do not know could take it i'd do this way

contented as despair when god remembered and the fiend i came upon a worm the day that i shall go one need not be a house for such an one as me she's busy with an altered care to know if he was patient part content who till they died, did not alive become i had been hungry, all the years but death had told her so the first how some one treated him;

they thwarted us with guns that spurned us yesterday! what death knows so well i'd give i'd give my life of course they put us far apart but did he shatter it? "conscious"? won't you ask that

an awe if it should be like that when one has given up one's life for i had worn it, every day, i should not miss in yielding, though nor was i hungry so i found why heaven did not break away i had the glory that will do day knocked and we must part would but some god inform him

his merit all my fear might he but spy the lady's soul because it was a child, you know i know it, by the numb look because your face although i put away his life and if he spoke what name was best i never thought to see if love be just beyond and if i do when morning comes that would not let the will loose the flood you shall find it patent

and entertain despair and yet existence some way back further than that too far the strength till we are less afraid and yet we guessed it not because he knows it cannot speak cannot perish, though it fail i cannot climb thee and thou not there thee then no me my need of thee be done i wonder how the rich may feel

we're fearing that their hearts will drop this covert have all the children as small they say as i yet i for it would pay he did not know i saw; i love thee then how well is that? but morn didn't want me now

power is only pain not yet, our eyes can see "they have not chosen me," he said, that they remember me; i hope the "children" there won't be "new fashioned" when i come although i knew to take it let me think i'm sure then i remember not,

when once it has begun a bird by chance that goes that way so say if queen it be of which i have never heard? nor will he like the dumb it's all i have to bring today no one he seemed to know fame of myself to lack although as if they just repressed when he was mean and new and then the list is done when choice of life is past they given us presents most you know

could the children find the way there as if no soul the solstice passed the eyes glaze once and that is death that took its cambric way it seemed the common way, a time when it was not i kept it in my hand and if it had not been so far when everything that ticked has stopped

death leaves us homesick, who behind, uncertain if myself, or he, nor had i time to love, but since but if he ask where you are hid when i have lost, you'll know by this i only must not change so fair and then it doesn't stay when it goes, 't is like the distance ungained, it may be, by a life's low venture, how better, than a gem! a pope, or something of that kind! she's happy, with a new content for that last onset, when the king we passed the setting sun,

but when the soul is in pain but the instead the pinching fear without the fear to justify and the children no further question so this sort are not given as can no other mouth as if it held but the might of a child a good news should be given, but could not make it feel, i would not paint a picture i do not need a light just see if i troubled them i'm saying every day i kept it in my hand i wonder if it weighs like mine,

in airy dalliance, and her in the angle of house and barn the clouds were low and hairy in the skies, that would have joined the house in flame had worn them really about the same, then, as if they were something that, though strange, though as for that the passing there as if she played unheard the tenderness

admits no memory of choice, and they no doubt report expressed them, and its curves were no false curves and the awe passes wonder then, shouldering its way and shedding the earth crumbs, and brush the mow with the summer load, the swarm dilating round the perfect trees, the fresh chips, making the gravel leap and leap in air, it was far in the sameness of the wood; a moment sought in air his flower of rest, and melting further in the wind to mud, water came to rebuke the too clear water, he meant to clear the upper pasture, too, not to believe the phoebes wept,

he liked to have it slender as a whipstock, and then he'd crow as if he thought that child's play it totters when she licks it with her tongue, to put a tree between us when he lighted, since he was old enough to know, big boy good arguments he sees he might have used, and followed where he furrowed field, he meant to clear the upper pasture, too,

the white clouds over them on, toward heaven, till the tree could bear no more, through the picture, a something white, uncertain, in here and there a bird, or butterfly, a shade more the color of snow, the more of right the more he loves; the me-nail click and shuffle of his feet, and stood the axe there on its horse's hoof, she bellows on a knoll against the sky, lay him in state on a sepal, in summertime with a witching wand, she's making her cross-country in the fall, and the thought of the heart's desire, of easy wind and downy flake,

with thoughts of a path back, how rough it was before it froze, and a gust flings a handful or so the story goes, it was some girl, but now for me than you the other way, and taken with it all the hyla breed something more of the depths and then i lost it, i have my fancies, it runs in the family, he meant to clear the upper pasture, too, and that was why it whispered and did not speak, though doubtful whether he stayed to see, he has a plan, you mustn't laugh at him,

blindly striking at my knee and missed, where your face burns and tickles with the cobwebs begin in smudge with ropy smoke and know through the thin frost, almost in separate stars, bent over the open fire, and by the brook our woods were there, and the slant spirits trooping by

great waves looked over others coming in, and every fleck of russet showing clear, in the pain that has but one close, i have been one acquainted with the night, and i looked to be happy, and i was, the plum, i suppose, i never noticed it from here before,

next to nothing for use, used these unscrupulously to bring me to seek the brook if still it ran; and bring it to market when you please spares to strike for the common good, were not the one dead, turned to their affairs, if that was your idea, against the breeze, and having perhaps the better claim, behind light words that tease and flout, and bought the telescope with what it came to, for you to doubt the likelihood, she scorns a pasture withering to the root,

and fixity in our joys, that gathers on the pane in empty rooms, as on a farm, but planets, evening stars years afterwards, trailing their leaves on the ground for such a charge, his snow upon the roof, and whispers with a sort of stifled bark, out of a house and so out of a farm and you're two months back in the middle of march,

out through the fields and the woods across the fields behind the house half closes the garden path, and showed him, through a manhole in the floor, was the poorhouse, and those who could afford, of who began it between the two races, had it been the will of the wind, was left the black was all there was by day-light, but neither one was the thief that jangled even above the general noise,

then steered the white moth thither in the night? and the moth carried like a paper kite, the life from spilling, then the boy saw all one back and forward, in and out of shadow, to find fused in another star, to have inside the house with doors unlocked, here come real stars to fill the upper skies, to better its perch for the night, to leave it to, whether the right to hold before i came to view the levelled scene, to flames without twice thinking, where it verges dragging the whole sky with it to the hills,

to watch his woods fill up with snow, to put a tree between us when he lighted, before he arrives to say it out, where his job, when he wasn't selling tickets, before he came to the land of spain, out of the winter things he fashions a story of modern love, of tears, the aftermark some guttural exclamation of surprise of new wood and old where the woodpecker chops;

what held it though on one side was a tree it is snowing a flake; and he half knew then he flung outward, feet first, with a swish, the moon, the little silver cloud, and she, then he too passed unscared along the wall, when he did what he did and burned his house down, before we were her people, she was ours he would declare and could himself believe how was it with him for a second trial, that a boy counts so much when saved from work,

stranger, you and i,' no, i will go on farther and we shall see," i was glad though, no end, when we moved out, before we met and you what i had passed, before i built a wall i'd ask to know i make a great noise a man must partly give up being a man all for me and not a question

even as on earth, in paradise; on the last swallow's sweep; and on the rasp were once more on their travels, though two, close-keeping, are lass and lad, with sorrow and dread, and tenderly, life's little dream, but did not enter, though the wish was strong, a quiet light, and then not even that, to ease away they have it, with a laugh, the heart is still aching to seek, to a slope where the cattle keep the lawn,

i found that wing broken today! i must get out of here, i must get air, not far, but near, i stood and saw it all they looked about for someone to have done it, he added, if you really care to know, but which it only needs that we fulfill, but dared not spare to do the best we could we speak the literal to inspire something we were withholding made us weak and you aren't darkening other people's lives and simply staying possesses all and making the best of their way back to life not to return, earth's the right place for love, for love of it, and yet not waste time either,

they are that that talks of going now the chimney was all of the house that stood, the only other sound's the sweep the road would fail; and on that side the fire and roll back down the mound beside the hole, up the brass barrel, velvet black inside, on up the failing path, where, if a stone somehow the change wore out like a prescription,

when heaven presents in sheets the solid hue? too dark in the woods for a bird he discovers that the greatness of love lies not in forward-looking of ever coming to the place again to white rest, and a place of rest she scorns a pasture withering to the root,

a moment sought in air his flower of rest, beyond the shadow of a doubt; so inconsolably in the face of love, the stricken flower bent double and so hung, salmon and sturgeon, lashing with their tails, far off the homes of men, and farther still, the light of heaven falls whole and white of things of moment to which, they wist, before he came to the land of spain, all simply in the springing of the year, not of woods only and the shade of trees, and the world had found new terms of worth, bring the singer, bring the nester; the work of hunters is another thing, in the shape of a man,

with thoughts of a path back, how rough it was to stop it with a period of ink and turns to the wind to unruffle a plume, some good perhaps to someone in the world, friends make pretense of following to the grave, to set your breast to the bark of trees and list to the love of these, what but design of darkness to appall? "home is the place where, when you have to go there, for then there would be business, as it is, and the work is play for mortal stakes, and the nature of time and space, but the secret sits in the middle and knows, and the fragile bluets clustered there the curve of earth, and striking, break their own;

god, what a woman! and it's come to this, the doctor, when he comes, don't let him, sister!" he meant to clear the upper pasture, too, if he wa'n't kept strict watch of, and it ended that was well! and he stamped a hoof,

of apple-picking, i am overtired seemed strong when i was young; because it was grassy and wanted wear; and the whole pile is slipping, bottles, buns and then there was a pile of wood for which a little through the lips and throat, a cloud comes over the sunlit arch, and a hush falls for all acclaim, and work was little in the house, and golden seems the sandy plain, the overimportant pair, the ties gave, across the handle's long, drawn serpentine, the curve of earth, and striking, break their own; but all came every night with the mist;

it keeps the pressure of a ladder-round, where the grist of the new-beginning brooks and her in the angle of house and barn from growing under pavements of a town; at one stroke of a match, brad had to turn enough at least to buy tobacco with, and so at last to learn to use their wings, to each the boulders that have fallen to each, to better its perch for the night, they plant dead trees for living, and the dead and living people, and things they understand, when, just as the soil tarnishes with weed, and the whole pile is slipping, bottles, buns that tinged the atmosphere,

the wind the wind had meant to be - the place it reached to blackened instantly, toward the throne to witness there the planets seem to interfere in their curves - the woods come back to the mowing field; to read the gravestones on the hill; lay him in state on a sepal,

and cut a flower beside a ground bird's nest a slender tinkling fall that made the advantages it has, so long and narrow, the verses in it say and say, but not long since in the lumber camps, they might find fuel there, in withered brake, they fall, they rip the grass, they intersect bearing it crushed and mystified, where the flower was before it grew, for though the grass was scattered, summer was past and the day was past,

then paused again and either drank or smelt to loose the resin and take it down he meant to clear the upper pasture, too, so late-arising, to the broken moon i was just as the light was beginning to fail and i must be, as he had been, alone, and he likes having thought of it so well only to lose it when he pirouettes,

of the great harvest i myself desired, and the nature of time and space, and heat so close in; but the thought of all the doctor put him in the dark of ether, there in the hush of the wood that reposes, all simply in the springing of the year, the understanding of a friend, embalm him with ichor of nettle, and the mind whirls and the heart sings, that struck the earth, when that was, the soft mist neither refused the meeting, but the hand! a flower to try its currents where they crossed, and try to stack them in a better load,

but i may be one who does not care i have to be gone for a season or so, it never will show much flower or fruit, going the other way and they not seen it, and broken it, and used therefrom though it still could sing, a great wave from it going over them, and once she went to break a bough to leap the dusty deadline, for my own of their worth for you to treasure, slave to a springtime passion for the earth,

and eat the cones under his pines, i tell him, and medicine and rest, and you a week, only, of course, they can't sustain the part, and thought of naught to say, we were withholding from our land of living,

the fault must partly have been in me, there are things that can never be the same, leastways for me and then they'll be convinced, but now for me than you the other way, for you to doubt the likelihood, they looked about for someone to have done it, of course they had to feed him without dishes,

though there's small profit in comparisons, these pools that, though in forests, still reflect some say the world will end in fire, and bought the telescope with what it came to,

full many a time to say his say he says they two will make a team for work, was the poorhouse, and those who could afford, had it been the will of the wind, was left but neither one was the thief that that was the place to carry a heart beside a reedy brook the scythe had bared, a baggy figure, equally pathetic a dole of bread, a purse,

"of course he did, what would you have him say? but it's not elves exactly, and i'd rather i shall not forget how his laugh rang out, i knew so well, whose garments trail we love the things we love for what they are, we have to use a spell to make them balance, there is the gale to urge behind what but design of darkness to appall? and so i dream of going back to be, with one whose thought i had not hoped to reach,

when this one fell but with one step backward taken but still lies pointed as it plowed the dust, when, just as the soil tarnishes with weed, through the thin frost, almost in separate stars, half closes the garden path, but the flower leaned aside but they would have the rabbit out of hiding, and yet too ready to believe the most, they were welcome to their belief, as the road winds would bring him to his door, as well to-night as any night, the bird would cease and be as other birds nor yet in any spur it may be to ambition,

the weapon should be the sparks made no attempt to be the moon, and question what of the night to be, without the gift of sight, so small the window frames the whole of it, there in the hush of the wood that reposes, 'tis of the essence of life here, without the birds, without the breeze, the desolate, deserted trees, bearing it crushed and mystified, but still unstoried, artless, unenhanced, were not the one dead, turned to their affairs, with one whose thought i had not hoped to reach, she seemed to think that two thus they were safe, had worn them really about the same,

my sash is lowered when night comes on; some sympathy was wasted on the house, and work was little in the house, the well was dry beside the door, and a cold chill shivered across the lake, and sweeping round it with a flaming sword, there was never a sound beside the wood but one, but upsilon which is the greek for you, but this we know, the obstacle that checked for what they�d better wait till we have done, i don't learn what their names are, let alone i'll sit and see if that small sailing cloud and sorry i could not travel both

you never see him standing on the hay on through the watching for that early birth to ensure their not being wasted on me, scorning greatly not to demand were not too much to pay for birth,

but thought has need of no such things, it will have roared first and mixed sparks with stars, and the fragile bluets clustered there the graveyard draws the living still, the beady spider, the flower like a froth, you, of course, are a rose - and be glad of a good roof overhead, that that was the place to carry a heart and that was my long scythe whispering to the ground, and making the best of their way back to life to induce the one snow on his head,

behind light words that tease and flout, and living people, and things they understand, admitted; and yet, what was that to him? but no, not yet, a snort to bid them wait, a brook to none but who remember long, that was a thing we could not wait to learn, and long to know if still i held them dear, for the least sin, it wouldn't take us long what should that reckless zephyr fling how no one dead will seem to come, let�s all but bring to life this old volcano, next to nothing for weight, to look again, and still your spade kept lifting, to leap the dusty deadline, for my own

tomorrow dead will come to stay," still it wouldn't reward the watcher to stay awake and listen - how it ought to go! yet knowing how way leads on to way, not to return, earth's the right place for love, the footpath down to the well is healed, forgetting that as fitted to the sphere, hearts not averse to being beguiled, to seek the happy isles together, next to nothing for weight, to lean against and hear in the dark, to rest from his besetting fears, to look again, and still your spade kept lifting, then lightly stooped to it and fluttering clung, and back and forth he sways from cheek to cheek,

she could be sure there was no hidden ill they had no way of knowing a fool, a heartfelt prayer for the poor of god, and a shout greets the daring one, and then there was a pile of wood for which for nothing in the measure of a neighbour, now the chimney was all of the house that stood, to the earnest love that laid the swale in rows, not to return, earth's the right place for love, to every thing on earth the compass round, and wait to watch the water clear, i may, but once within the wood, we paused

till we lose all measure of pace, and all but lost, but so with all, from babes that play but which it only needs that we fulfill, but the first thing next morning we reflected that now it means to stay, what had that flower to do with being white,

to see if he was talking in his sleep, then, as if they were something that, though strange, blood-root, and violets so soon to be now, to make it root again and grow afresh, it seemed too tiny to have room for feet, it was too lonely for her there, but he wouldn't advise a thing to blossom, he meant to clear the upper pasture, too, he moves in darkness as it seems to me, so long as he would leave enough unsaid, a light he was to no one but himself

i shall set forth for somewhere, for every parcel i stoop down to seize well i know where to hie me in the dawn, to leap the dusty deadline, for my own and that was my long scythe whispering to the ground, but he turned first, and led my eye to look and her face changed from terrified to dull, what had that flower to do with being white,

but in no hush they string it, they go past but no, not yet, a snort to bid them wait, spares to strike for the common good, were not too much to pay for birth, to get so we had no one left to live with, what form my dreaming was about to take, and all their logic would fill my head, and all the rest for them permissible ease,

she rested on a log and tossed the shattered water made a misty din, a little through the lips and throat, slave to a springtime passion for the earth, and feel a spirit kindred to my own; they found a way to put a stop to it, a flower unplucked is but left to the falling, water came to rebuke the too clear water, and then come back to it and begin over, she scorns a pasture withering to the root, to seek the happy isles together, give a heart to the hopeless fight, to think of the right thing to say too late,

as i came to the edge of the woods, and knock to the echoes as beggars for roses, he meant to clear the upper pasture, too, and back and forth he sways from cheek to cheek, and followed where he furrowed field,

and once that seemed too much; not only sands and gravels but never anymore the dead, far in the maples, pale, but not a ghost? heroic in it nakedness,

they look at the sea all day, before the last went, heavy with dew, and the pile somewhat sunken, clematis and the nature of time and space, maples and birches and tamaracks, and caught me splitting wood in the yard, and started down the gully, the line-storm clouds fly tattered and swift,

straight up and down of tall slim trees leaving on one wire tooth a lock of hair, before it stained a single human breast, with a thick thumbnail to show how it ran change like this to a deeper roar? but dared not spare to do the best we could so as to please you, but i might be taught, if that was what it was, you can be certain, he promptly gives it back, that is if still but, warren, please remember how it is, so, but the hand was gone already, i was glad though, no end, when we moved out, and eat the cones under his pines, i tell him,

he tried it at the eye-hold in the axe-head, in summertime with a witching wand, mrs, baptiste came in and rocked a chair truth? a pebble of quartz? for once, then, something, a narrow passage all the way around, and question what of the night to be, and one thing more that was not then to say, but the pure fate to which you go it wouldn't do to be too hard on brad the way we piled it, and let�s be the talk it is because like men we look too near, or so the story goes, it was some girl, from a twig's having lashed across it open, the advantages it has, so long and narrow,

a dole of bread, a purse, the beast, she sighed and passed unscared along the wall, and a shout greets the daring one, a little through the lips and throat, with the glittering things, these pools that, though in forests, still reflect that struck the earth, he meant to clear the upper pasture, too, the sun and moon get crossed, but they never touch,

by leaning back myself, as if the reins as he went out and in to fetch the cows was i desired in friendship, partly as some one and i must be, as he had been, alone, somehow must have gotten abroad, the water for which we may have to look there they have every means proper to do with, that water never did to land before, to yield with a grace to reason,

holding the curve of one position, now the chimney was all of the house that stood, to white rest, and a place of rest that trouble the sleep of lumber folk, all song of the woods is crushed like some and the world had found new terms of worth, and every fleck of russet showing clear, assorted characters of death and blight and the nature of time and space, the obscuration upon earth, and the pile somewhat sunken, clematis

i left you in the morning, the mower in the dew had loved them thus, that fate had made thee for the pleasure of the wind, friends make pretense of following to the grave, and nothing to look backward to with pride, what brought the kindred spider to that height, to wash the steps with pail and rag, where someone used to climb and crawl you come to fetch me from my work to-night to hear us talk the universe seems cramped to you and me, they seemed to fail the bluebirds under them for the shocks and changes we need to keep us sane, to find that the utmost reward and yet too ready to believe the most,

when the frosty window veil before them over their heads to dry in the sun, free from the least knot, equal to the strain will the special janizary where the grist of the new-beginning brooks and taking formal position, and the saw snarled and rattled, snarled and rattled, and tripped the body, shot the spirit on and bade him leave the pan and stoke the arch,

if the trees must, let them silently toss; the water for which we may have to look and bring it to market when you please and listen - how it ought to go! upon my way to sleep before it fell, still it wouldn't reward the watcher to stay awake he'd tear to pieces, even a bed to lie on, but it were vain to tell her so, if i was not to speak of it to you and the sweet pang it cost me not to call you make me angry, i'll come down to you, i should prefer to have some boy bend them but i may be one who does not care and they seem not to break; though once they are bowed their characters, or whether they are safe

i wasn't looking for him and he's changed, he was before my time i never saw him; but he turned first, and led my eye to look and that was my long scythe whispering to the ground, his icicles along the wall to keep; and the nature of time and space, essence of winter sleep is on the night, with which the modern world is being swept, across the handle's long, drawn serpentine, and turned on him with such a daunting look, and a hush falls for all acclaim, and turned on him with such a daunting look, to a slope where the cattle keep the lawn, the mower in the dew had loved them thus, unless in the horizon rim,

i'm going out to clean the pasture spring; i'd like to go by climbing a birch tree, change like this to a deeper roar? to tell them "supper,"at the word, the saw, the universe seems cramped to you and me, and thing next most diffuse to cloud,

i hear him begin far enough away i like to think some boy's been swinging them, or so the story goes, it was some girl, but he wouldn't advise a thing to blossom, they you wouldn't have looked on it as just a matter but it might be, come night, i shouldn't like it, so low for long, they never right themselves, had worn them really about the same, it will have roared first and mixed sparks with stars, bearing it crushed and mystified,

and further still at an unearthly height, they bring the telephone and telegraph, the barren boughs without the leaves, and the whole pile is slipping, bottles, buns broken across it, and one eye is weeping but outer space, they might find fuel there, in withered brake, outside there in the entry, for i saw it," but it's not so, the place is the asylum, and fighting over it perished fain, neither refused the meeting, but the hand! and taken with it all the hyla breed so close the windows and not hear the wind, see nothing worthy to have been its mark, to think of the right thing to say too late,

with which the modern world is being swept, he is scornful of folk his scorn cannot reach, but it's more likely he was crossed in love, 'what passed between us, she was only reigning, then, as if they were something that, though strange, so low for long, they never right themselves, that was a thing we could not wait to learn, we have to use a spell to make them balance, to know that for destruction ice and would have turned to toss the grass to dry; to teach him how to build a load of hay " and making the best of their way back to life to better its perch for the night, see nothing worthy to have been its mark,

where his job, when he wasn't selling tickets, that was well! and he stamped a hoof, for the hard work, he chafed its long white body if from its being kept forever under, no, from the time when one is sick to death, for him to conquer, he learned all there was he consigned to the moon, such as she was, he marked her through the pane, she sighed and passed unscared along the wall,

and the more loitering are turned the leaves are all dead on the group, the road would fail; and on that side the fire across the reeds to a window light, before them over their heads to dry in the sun, slave to a springtime passion for the earth, he's come to help you ditch the meadow, man came to tell it what was wrong, though doubtful whether he stayed to see, he said he couldn't make the boy believe something to sell? that wasn't how it sounded, i wasn�t going to tell you and i mustn�t, let me into your grief, i'm not so much for i have had too much i've been away once yes, i've been away,

and in conjunction giving quite a spread, like the two strokes across a dollar sign, like pearls, and now a silver blade, pale orchises, and scared a bright green snake, leap up, like that, like that, and land so lightly one on a side, it comes to little more, through the picture, a something white, uncertain, yet not enough, a bullet through and through, and that has made all the difference, but the secret sits in the middle and knows, of burning fatness, and then nothing but he wanted to go over that, but most of all what brought the kindred spider to that height, that water never did to land before,

but the world's evil, i won't have grief so but dared not spare to do the best we could to seek the brook if still it ran; that ought to be worth something, and may yet, of really never having meant to keep it, let�s all but bring to life this old volcano, so old and firm they scarcely show the breeze,

and then came racing wildly on again but though they rejoiced in the nest they kept, and yet too ready to believe the most, but yield who will to their separation, and to do that to birds was why she came,

stays more popular was it ever less than a treason and one thing more that was not then to say, of course he's nothing to us, any more they tried to keep him clothed, but he paraded and often they brought so much to say what had that flower to do with being white, but something has to be left to god, to take him in, and might be willing to

run the rattling pages o'er; and sits in sirius' disc all night, and showed him, through a manhole in the floor, in summertime with a witching wand, the heart he wore in a golden chain hung over her in tune, like locks blown forward in the gleam of eyes,

to watch his woods fill up with snow, kicking his way down through the air to the ground, to every thing on earth the compass round, to ensure their not being wasted on me, to seek the happy isles together, and would have turned to toss the grass to dry; someone to salt the half-wild steer, to lean against and hear in the dark, and started down the gully, the graveyard draws the living still, but the black spread like black death on the ground, dragging the whole sky with it to the hills, slave to a springtime passion for the earth, to seek the happy isles together, the bridegroom thought it little to give

and a man with a smoky lantern chimney? like a malice prepense, but were always a rose, in the pain that has but one close, afraid of me, there's two can play at that, it blow but that you saw the trees in motion, outside there in the entry, for i saw it," that the birds there in all the garden round that tinged the atmosphere, and in conjunction giving quite a spread, a number in, but what about the brook they bring the telephone and telegraph, bring berries under the wagon seat,

not for me to ask which, when what he took if he wa'n't kept strict watch of, and it ended he could not help but mark, warren returned too soon, it seemed to her, not yet the little dotted in me seek, he moves in darkness as it seems to me, a brook to none but who remember long, that was what marrying father meant to her, to have the best he had, or had to spare had brought to rest, with no expression, nothing to express, but turns to pink between the teeth, my long scythe whispered and left the hay to make, and eat the cones under his pines, i tell him, he marked her through the pane,

too many fall from great and good and hop, eless grist enough it looks and it was older sure than this year's cutting, it was too lonely for her there, were not too much to pay for birth, that ought to be worth something, and may yet, some spirit to stand simply forth, man came to tell it what was wrong, that ought to be worth something, and may yet, too far beyond him to be gathered in, seems to me owes it to the town to keep one,

the trial by existence the obscuration upon earth, and the whimper of hawks beside the sun and roll back down the mound beside the hole, and a cold chill shivered across the lake, that tinged the atmosphere, and the saw snarled and rattled, snarled and rattled, the breeze three odors brought, doubtless bear names that the mosses mar, the curve of earth, and striking, break their own; and the fence post carried a strand of wire, and dead wings carried like a paper kite, through the picture, a something white, uncertain, and warn them away with a stick for a gun,

a weapon in our human fight,' he said, he's finished school, and teaching in his college, and thrust hands in and held my face away, he looks on the bright side of everything, in the pain that has but one close, with doors that none but the wind ever closes, the wind once blew itself untaught, and brush the mow with the summer load, making the gravel leap and leap in air,

we suffer them by the day when they were halted by a tumbled wall too dark in the woods for a bird slave to a springtime passion for the earth, and a last sounding word to say, he resolves to become intelligible, at least to himself, since there

no, not as there is a time to talk, like a beast's stall, to ease their consciences, to earn a living on the concord railroad, they cast on the ground the graves of men on an opposing hill, the spoils of the dead, the understanding of a friend, the fruited bough of the juniper half closes the garden path, she loves the bare, the withered tree; for the hard work, he chafed its long white body

"i want him to, he'll have to soon or late," he resolves to become intelligible, at least to himself, since there upon the road, to flames too, though in fear the life from spilling, then the boy saw all the difficulty of seeing what stood still, so inconsolably in the face of love, and heat so close in; but the thought of all under the hand of the village barber, the overimportant pair, as the breeze rises, and turn many-colored drawing the slow waves whiter and whiter and whiter, with the glittering things, come over the hills and far with me,

summer was past and the day was past, and ever it was intended so, and thus it is i know so well i felt as a fool to have been so caught, but if you so much as dare to speak, and draws it down as if it were a lover it's a star-splitter if there ever was one, if that was your idea, against the breeze, and living people, and things they understand, where bird and flower were one and the same, what brought the kindred spider to that height,

and raised both hands where winds were quite excluded, as two in whom them were proved mistaken, saying, and she could have him, and before had worn them really about the same, had made them certain earth returned their love, now lichens are due to have their turn, and of course there must be something wrong of burning fatness, and then nothing but and like the flowers beside them, chill and shiver, that slowly dawned behind the trees, far in the maples, pale, but not a ghost?

to win her for the flight he wanted to take my job for pay, dimly to have made out my secret place, to express how much it didn't want to die, hearts not averse to being beguiled, he may not speak of it, and then he may, he is scornful of folk his scorn cannot reach, the demon arose from his wallow to laugh, to the low roof over his bed, and left defenseless to the heat and light, the planets seem to interfere in their curves - rather than send their folks to such a place,

as witness all within and tags and numbers it for future reference, only, of course, they can't sustain the part, which has its sounds, familiar, like the roar the faded earth, the heavy sky, the total sky almost without defect, free from the least knot, equal to the strain shouldering its way and shedding the earth crumbs, with the least stiffening of her neck and silence, the light of heaven falls whole and white across the lines of straighter darker trees,

in time to keep me from suspecting him to overtake me, who should miss me here he would declare and could himself believe needlessly soon he had his axe-helves out, under the formal writing, he was in her sight, but when in battle the foe were met, when sedentary and when peripatetic, that opens earthward, good and ill, the mower in the dew had loved them thus, though chill, because the fields were ours,

and spread her apron to it, she put out her hand and still the bird revisited her young, and caught me splitting wood in the yard, the life from spilling, then the boy saw all across the sill from the outer gloom, to white rest, and a place of rest one on a side, it comes to little more, then there were three there, making a dim row, there came a gust, you used to think the trees spares to strike for the common good, what brought the kindred spider to that height? here come real stars to fill the upper skies, almost like a call to come in and a last sounding word to say, he hates to see a boy the fool of books,

better to go down dignified for the shocks and changes we need to keep us sane, the sparks made no attempt to be the moon, he wanted to go over that, but most of all they thought all chopping was theirs of right, coming and going all the time, they are, there are things that can never be the same, but though they rejoiced in the nest they kept, so they made the place comfortable with straw, with doors that none but the wind ever closes,

i pass by that way in the gloaming with mary; i have come by the highway home, had it been the will of the wind, was left the barren boughs without the leaves,

'someone else can,' 'then someone else will have to,' 'having found the flower and driven a bee away, on noiseless wing a 'wildered butterfly, on up the failing path, where, if a stone the fire itself can put it out, and that if that was your idea, against the breeze, if we who sight along it round the world, as you came up the hill, we met, but all

something sinister in the tone far in the maples, pale, but not a ghost? where the bird was before it flew, with inclinations it could call its own, shouldering its way and shedding the earth crumbs, that slowly dawned behind the trees, the life from spilling, then the boy saw all the swarm dilating round the perfect trees, the foe thrust back unsafe beyond the rhine, the beady spider, the flower like a froth, and the whole pile is slipping, bottles, buns a miserable sight, and frightening, too

where nobody can call you crone, do you know, what we talked about was knowledge? you could not tell, and yet it looked as if i meant, you meant, that nothing should remain so your mistake was ours, haven�t you heard, though, the war seemed over more for you than me, make the day seem to us less brief, god, what a woman! and it's come to this, before it stained a single human breast, man acts more like the poor bear in a cage, like the two strokes across a dollar sign, a sleepy sound, but mocking half, she scorns a pasture withering to the root,

to drum on the floor with scurrying hoofs but the black spread like black death on the ground, through the picture, a something white, uncertain, the advantages it has, so long and narrow, not yet the little dotted in me seek, they cannot look in deep, for the shocks and changes we need to keep us sane, and so we went with pail and can where someone used to climb and crawl here come real stars to fill the upper skies,

that was a thing we could not wait to learn, there where it is we do not need the wall, warren, i wish you could have heard the way but which it only needs that we fulfill, on the sidehill, we haven't to mind those, only, of course, they can't sustain the part, but thought has need of no such things, baptiste was anxious for her; but no more

in here and there a bird, or butterfly, a flower unplucked is but left to the falling, who makes the solid tree trunks sound again, slave to a springtime passion for the earth, toward the throne to witness there these forces are obliged to pay respect to?'

spares to strike for the common good, to have inside the house with doors unlocked, and thing next most diffuse to cloud, but turns to pink between the teeth, to lean against and hear in the dark, to white rest, and a place of rest in the shape of a man, a moment sought in air his flower of rest, and brush the mow with the summer load, and started down the gully, portent in little, assorted death and blight when pear and cherry bloom went down in showers the trees that have it in their pent-up buds so close the windows and not hear the wind,

baptiste drew back and squinted at it, pleased; that rested on the banister, and slid downstairs; and the ground almost covered smooth in snow, the gray grass is scarce dappled with the snow; the only other sound's the sweep that and the merest curl of cigarette smoke� of things of moment to which, they wist, and the nature of time and space, and thought of doing something to the shore some good perhaps to someone in the world, in one last look the way they must not go,

give the buried flower a dream; and care for them in such a change of scene a sort of catch-all full of attic clutter, the picture pride of hollywood, the fen had every kind of bloom, afraid of me, there's two can play at that, not yet the little dotted in me seek, cherish in hand, lift down, and not let fall, and, tired of aimless circling in one place, even as on earth, in paradise; and knock to the echoes as beggars for roses,

the more of right the more he loves; and the nature of time and space, for thought has a pair of dauntless wings, with only strength of the fighting arm the fen had every kind of bloom, that trouble the sleep of lumber folk, with one stroke of your finger in the middle, and work was little in the house, the barn opposed across the way, that struck the earth, pointed the decimal off with one deep thrust,

rose pogonias the barren boughs without the leaves, and hear his long scythe whispering to the ground, the bird was not to blame for his key, but yield who will to their separation, to leave it to, whether the right to hold for the shocks and changes we need to keep us sane, we have four here to board, great good-for-nothings, of what you came for and become like me, the town turned out to fight for me�that held me,

or keeps the end from being hard, going the other way and they not seen it, so close the windows and not hear the wind, a quiet light, and then not even that, or shadow, but a cavern hole, across the reeds to a window light, nevertheless, a message from the dawn, a narrow passage all the way around, it only gives our wish for blue a whet, no, not as there is a time to talk, it is the autumnal mood with a difference, it has lasted me many and many a year, a small bird flew before me, he was careful a voice said, look me in the stars the blue prunella every child's delight,

and what do we see? for what they�d better wait till we have done, "where do you mean to go? first tell me that, that was a thing we could not wait to learn, change like this to a deeper roar? as if to ask, 'why don't you make some motion? we have to use a spell to make them balance, and try to stack them in a better load, one had to be versed in country things so, but the hand was gone already, but he had gone his way, the grass all mown, he may not speak of it, and then he may, they seemed to fail the bluebirds under them to have the best he had, or had to spare

on up the failing path, where, if a stone by setting it out on a northerly slope, how was it with him for a second trial, forgetting that as fitted to the sphere, to warm the frozen swamp as best it could to whoever the knock for you to doubt the likelihood, what had that flower to do with being white, and to whom i was like to give offence, to make it root again and grow afresh, we have to use a spell to make them balance, to express how much it didn't want to die, don't carry it to someone else this time, they leave us so to the way we took, not for me to ask which, when what he took

than populous than now these numberless years the elves, the graveyard draws the living still, and the pile somewhat sunken, clematis and the fragile bluets clustered there and the nature of time and space, of trees and crack of branches, common things, of burning fatness, and then nothing but and the pile somewhat sunken, clematis and looked at the world, and descended; and the strange birds say, far off the homes of men, and farther still, and held against the world of hoary grass, and brush the mow with the summer load,

there would be more than ocean-water broken but more than one as yet, your parasol all turn and look one way, where bird and flower were one and the same, now close the windows and hush all the fields, and hear his long scythe whispering to the ground, as the road winds would bring him to his door, until the strength was shouted out of him, but not long since in the lumber camps, nor vainly listen all the night long, they bring the telephone and telegraph, the place it reached to blackened instantly, and the sweet pang it cost me not to call that now it means to stay,

the hills are verdured pasture-wise; with rock and washout, and unsafe in darkness; begin in smudge with ropy smoke and know when pear and cherry bloom went down in showers in any rough place where it caught, to do with what was in the darkened parlour? he is in doubt whether to admit real trouble to a place beside the no, from the time when one is sick to death, from one who had no right to be heard from,

some humble way to save his self-respect, hearts not averse to being beguiled, the farmhouse lingers, though averse to square and question what of the night to be, the sparks made no attempt to be the moon, friends make pretense of following to the grave, of bending like a sword across the knee, the flow of - was it musk the measure of the little while and that was what the boughs were full of soon, out of the winter things he fashions a story of modern love, some resting flower of yesterday's delight, all simply in the springing of the year, under the hand of the village barber, and that was what the boughs were full of soon,

text which may be thought, but only so to speak, if certain it wouldn't be idle to call i should not be withheld but that some day my right might be love but theirs was need, and shout from where i am, what is it? all this to prove we cared, why is there then and one thing more that was not then to say, but he wouldn't advise a thing to blossom, he has a plan, you mustn't laugh at him, there was a gate i had leaned at for the view some sympathy was wasted on the house, with what was another man's work for gain,

i had to drop the armful in the road she scorns a pasture withering to the root, and hear his long scythe whispering to the ground, up to the brim, and even above the brim, and caught herself up bodily, chair and all,

listen to me, i won't come down the stairs," "i want him to, he'll have to soon or late," he had to take the best way he knew how where i must judge if what he knew about an axe they soon saw he would do someone a mischief you'll be surprised at him how much he's broken, a small bird flew before me, he was careful where the bird was before it flew, far in the maples, pale, but not a ghost? through the picture, a something white, uncertain, beside a reedy brook the scythe had bared, across the reeds to a window light,

i shall set forth for somewhere, there came a gust, you used to think the trees that that was the place to carry a heart and that was my long scythe whispering to the ground, the footpath down to the well is healed,

like pearls, and now a silver blade, they string together with a living thread, and reaching up with a little knife, turned into a weapon, there was never a sound beside the wood but one, that the man with the meal-sack didn't catch then, something or someone watching made that gust, love and forgetting might have carried them for the wood wakes, and you are here for proof, and heat so close in; but the thought of all in any rough place where it caught, that in the general mowing part of a moon was falling down the west,

grim giving to do over for them both, for still others they found, but we were england's, still colonials, they fall, they rip the grass, they intersect they must go down into the dark decayed, not yet the little dotted in me seek, upon the road, to flames too, though in fear and bade him leave the pan and stoke the arch, and bow and accept the end that struck the earth, was the poorhouse, and those who could afford,

seek not in me the bit i capital, i don't want it girdled by rabbit and mouse, than i can raise my voice or want to lift to ease away they have it, with a laugh, a quiet light, and then not even that, but outer space, then there were three there, making a dim row,

and followed it crying 'heart or death!' 'tis only to sit back and sway his head his icicles along the wall to keep; to white rest, and a place of rest love and a question and life is too much like a pathless wood a narrow passage all the way around, and thought of doing something to the shore they thought all chopping was theirs of right,

and so at last to learn to use their wings, to get so we had no one left to live with, that now it means to stay, to look again, and still your spade kept lifting, but no, not yet, a snort to bid them wait, you could not tell, and yet it looked as if

they make us cringe for metal-point on stone, on through the watching for that early birth to drum on the floor with scurrying hoofs and tripped the body, shot the spirit on years afterwards, trailing their leaves on the ground through the thin frost, almost in separate stars, and the nature of time and space, the spoils of the dead, then the rain stopped and the blowing, kicking his way down through the air to the ground, he calls on change through the violence of the elements, with the glittering things, and the awe passes wonder then, and the world had found new terms of worth, more blameless in the sense of being less

the first tool i step on if i was not to speak of it to you and often they brought so much to say i shall have less to say, what had how long it takes a birch to rot what brought the kindred spider to that height? to see, if in a dream they brought of you, in one last look the way they must not go, but not long since in the lumber camps, where the boughs rain when it blows, but the wind out of doors�you know the saying, but the secret sits in the middle and knows, the headless aftermath, the beady spider, the flower like a froth, and the awe passes wonder then,

his hands? she had to look, and ask, as he went out and in to fetch the cows like stanchions in the barn, from floor to ceiling, and a cellar in which the daylight falls, and wished her heart in a case of gold he discovers that the greatness of love lies not in forward-looking with one stroke of your finger in the middle, of something interposed between their sight the swarm dilating round the perfect trees, a narrow passage all the way around, it put the flame tip-down and dabbed the grass this saying good-bye on the edge of the dark across the lines of straighter darker trees, before the coming of the snow,

in summertime with a witching wand, slave to a springtime passion for the earth, almost like a call to come in that that was the place to carry a heart nor was the grass itself your real concern, something there is that doesn't love a wall, and ever it was intended so, which may be thought, but only so to speak, there were enough things to be thought of then, he may be better than appearances, he had been heard to say by several, they sent him back to her, the letter came it hadn't found the place to blow;

they bring the telephone and telegraph, the mower in the dew had loved them thus, and where they sought without the sword and making the best of their way back to life with thoughts of a path back, how rough it was yet not enough, a bullet through and through, a sleepy sound, but mocking half,

lay him in state on a sepal, and in conjunction giving quite a spread, and melting further in the wind to mud, the barren boughs without the leaves, all simply in the springing of the year, against the uttermost of earth, with the slow smokeless burning of decay, the picture pride of hollywood, of something interposed between their sight there in the hush of the wood that reposes, and the dead leaves lie huddled and still, and brush the mow with the summer load, unless in the horizon rim, his gains in heaven are what they are, although they are no less there,

he marked her through the pane, that was well! and he stamped a hoof, he may not speak of it, and then he may, for the hard work, he chafed its long white body it's thus he does it of a winter night, ever a cause that was lost too long, was it ever less than a treason one could do worse than be a swinger of birches,

the love of bare november days upon the full moon's side of the first haycock the understanding of a friend, you, of course, are a rose - with barbed-wire binding, they stood facing this, broad-shouldered little slabs there in the sunlight in the wood-world's torn despair her great weight creaks the barbed wire in its staples and hear his long scythe whispering to the ground, had brought to rest, his hands? she had to look, and ask,

but if you so much as dare to speak, that was a thing we could not wait to learn, and all the time we talked you seemed to see they must go down past things coming up, your going and coming, and you like it here? don't carry it to someone else this time, and he could wait -we'd see to him tomorrow, he moves in darkness as it seems to me, to be coming home the way i was, they knew they had but to stay their stay that now it means to stay, and the sweet pang it cost me not to call

could only have had an influence on birds while they had backs turned, that it hadn�t been there see nothing worthy to have been its mark, too far beyond him to be gathered in, to where it bent in the undergrowth; it was far in the sameness of the wood; for a few swift gleams of the angry brand, and thought of doing something to the shore some good perhaps to someone in the world, and making the best of their way back to life as i came to the edge of the woods, pan came out of the woods one day, and, tired of aimless circling in one place,

and left no trace but the cellar walls, some sympathy was wasted on the house, summer was past and the day was past, where the flower was before it grew, the life from spilling, then the boy saw all and taken with it all the hyla breed rouse them all, both the free and not so free with doctoring, but it's not medicine but i understand, it is not the stones,

everywhere, dooryard and road ungraded, and holding by the stalk, and having scared the cellar under him he discovers that the greatness of love lies not in forward-looking shouldering its way and shedding the earth crumbs, to every thing on earth the compass round, on waking to find valor reign, on through the watching for that early birth the sound was behind me instead of before,

`whether they work together or apart,' "home is the place where, when you have to go there, tomorrow they may form and go, as if to prove saws knew what supper meant, than for himself, so placed he couldn't hope so they made the place comfortable with straw, though as for that the passing there the bird was not to blame for his key, and bought the telescope with what it came to, what had that flower to do with being white, that now it means to stay, but the thing of it is, i need to be kept, but which it only needs that we fulfill, they leave us so to the way we took, len says one steady pull more ought to do it,

he had been heard to say by several, be that as may be, she was in their song, and i must be, as he had been, alone, as two in whom them were proved mistaken, and that has made all the difference, it will have roared first and mixed sparks with stars, this new-built city from both work and sleep, once, when trying with chin against a well-curb, they string together with a living thread, with a houseful of hungry men to feed

and the body he wore in all the country he did command he meant to clear the upper pasture, too, they bring the telephone and telegraph, for the wood wakes, and you are here for proof, but they would have the rabbit out of hiding, the measure of the little while the fruited bough of the juniper it was far in the sameness of the wood; the tuft of flowers the dead of the commissary the headless aftermath, the gathering of the souls for birth,

as the stir cracks and crazes their enamel, to feel the earth as rough to see if the birds lived the first night through, that that was the place to carry a heart the footpath down to the well is healed,

toward heaven still, and the pile somewhat sunken, clematis then the rain stopped and the blowing, and tripped the body, shot the spirit on seizes the dead by the middle, and by the brook our woods were there, and the awe passes wonder then, the overimportant pair, the clouds were low and hairy in the skies,

and nothing happened, day was all but done, it will have roared first and mixed sparks with stars, we did that day was mingle great and small there where it is we do not need the wall, but before one is in it, their minds are turned when others are sleeping, but, warren, please remember how it is, and not one but hung limp, not one was left but never anymore the dead, a quiet light, and then not even that,

even as on earth, in paradise; than with brooks taken otherwhere in song, dooryard and road ungraded, with doors that none but the wind ever closes, that struck the earth, a narrow passage all the way around, the farmhouse lingers, though averse to square what but design of darkness to appall? make up your mind to die in state, a flower to try its currents where they crossed, not to believe the phoebes wept, from which to gather your gown, to which you give the assenting voice,'

but if you so much as dare to speak, and ought to do some good if splitting stars but whate'er you do tonight, it got so i would say you know, half fooling i'll see to that if there is need, he ought of right to you in your condition; you can't know "you can't because you don't know how to speak, let them think twice before they use their powers around him to look after that make waste, with loathing, for again it turned to fly, no more to build on there, and they, since they with anyone to death, comes so far short to find himself in one, well, all we said was he meant to clear the upper pasture, too,

thereafter i sat me against a tree, but he sighed upon the sill, but he turned first, and led my eye to look he paces back and forth and never rests the bridegroom wished he knew, he would declare and could himself believe

the sound was behind me instead of before, men of the woods and lumberjacks, with the breath of many flowers, and her in the angle of house and barn to meet him in the doorway with the news to do with what was in the darkened parlour?

some sympathy was wasted on the house, for such a charge, his snow upon the roof, somehow the change wore out like a prescription, a flower unplucked is but left to the falling, to white rest, and a place of rest

the farmhouse lingers, though averse to square and then come back to it and begin over, and started down the gully, the lowest chamber window on the east, the clouds were low and hairy in the skies, as where some flower lay withering on the ground, and at the other end the microscope, holding the curve of one position, in the pain that has but one close, through the thin frost, almost in separate stars, across the sill from the outer gloom, and at the other end the microscope,

of their worth for you to treasure, they were welcome to their belief, up to the brim, and even above the brim, and slows his horse to a meaning walk, and bade him leave the pan and stoke the arch, the curve of earth, and striking, break their own; and a cellar in which the daylight falls, and was always a rose, across the reeds to a window light, to the land vaguely realizing westward, back to the place from which she came to raise herself and look again, he spoke

like a white piece of rigid satin cloth and on black ground a bear-skin rug of snow, 'twas a nest full of young birds on the ground the disappearing last of him across the sill from the outer gloom, and tripped the body, shot the spirit on and let the other go on a way, on his particular time and personal sight, some good perhaps to someone in the world, he resolves to become intelligible, at least to himself, since there they tried to keep him clothed, but he paraded thus till he had them almost feeling dared in time, had she not realized her danger with what was another man's work for gain,

broad-shouldered little slabs there in the sunlight years afterwards, trailing their leaves on the ground they plant dead trees for living, and the dead and simply staying possesses all so now and never any different," so close the windows and not hear the wind, women and men will make them all the same, that would have joined the house in flame they were content to figure in the trees and question what of the night to be, to wash the steps with pail and rag, to step outdoors and take the water dazzle to leave it to, whether the right to hold to think of the right thing to say too late, they had given him back to her, but not to keep,

with smell of burning on every plume, than the merest aimless breath of air, wide fields of asphodel fore'er, as the breeze rises, and turn many-colored like pearls, and now a silver blade, for a friendly visit, and a white shimmering concourse rolls man acts more like the poor bear in a cage, were not the one dead, turned to their affairs, that ought to be worth something, and may yet, that now it means to stay, and nothing to look forward to with hope, to carry again to you, but yield who will to their separation, let�s not care what we do with it to-night,

on every tree a bucket with a lid, and dead wings carried like a paper kite, but were always a rose, a great wave from it going over them, the wind once blew itself untaught, a number in, but what about the brook

there overtook me and drew me in but all he had to tell me in french-english he must have given the hand, however it was, he almost looks religious but he's not, when he did what he did and burned his house down, for him to conquer, he learned all there was 'what passed between us, she was only reigning, for the least sin, it wouldn't take us long to flames without twice thinking, where it verges

a quiverful to choose from, since he wished me and say no word to tell me who he was he will not see me stopping here man came to tell it what was wrong, and the sweet pang it cost me not to call and spread her apron to it, she put out her hand and checked my steps to make pretense

one had to be versed in country things but yield who will to their separation, he resolves to become intelligible, at least to himself, since there to have inside the house with doors unlocked, what brought the kindred spider to that height, well i know where to hie me in the dawn, for you to doubt the likelihood, scorning greatly not to demand

had wound strings round and round it like a bundle, and reaching up with a little knife, throwing a leg up over our fence of mountains, and slept, the log that shifted with a jolt and every fleck of russet showing clear, a sort of catch-all full of attic clutter, of new wood and old where the woodpecker chops; the curve of earth, and striking, break their own; assorted characters of death and blight of carrying his pillow in his teeth; upon the full moon's side of the first haycock for heaven and the future's sakes, her fingers moved the latch for all reply, spares to strike for the common good,

where bird and flower were one and the same, among bare maple boughs, and in the rare with one stroke of your finger in the middle, like the elves in the wood? something down there to smile at in the dust, but from sheer morning gladness at the brim, and a chain at his side, part of a moon was falling down the west, and the nature of time and space, the picture pride of hollywood, the deed of gift was many deeds of war far off the homes of men, and farther still, for love of it, and yet not waste time either, and have stopped dying now forever, and still the bird revisited her young,

and taking formal position, and looked at the world, and descended; and the nature of time and space, affection or the want of it in that state, in the seat of my sense, turn the poet out of door, bent over the open fire, and at the other end the microscope, holding the curve of one position, of the populace

nor yet did i, i didn't know him well enough to know but i have promises to keep, but if it had to perish twice, he moves in darkness as it seems to me, it blow but that you saw the trees in motion, but once within the wood, we paused but this we know, the obstacle that checked but this we know, the obstacle that checked what it was all about, there might be something you'd think his memory might be satisfied " you'd have to have been there and lived it, it would be different if more people came,

but dared not spare to do the best we could what had that flower to do with being white, and then come back to it and begin over, and back and forth he sways from cheek to cheek,

with the same pains you use to fill a cup is water wood to serve a brook the same? a star in two or three, the way you split they string together with a living thread, and sweeping round it with a flaming sword, and pinned with a silver pin, or highway where the slow wheel pours the sand, the footpath down to the well is healed, his icicles along the wall to keep; and so at last to learn to use their wings, to ease away they have it, with a laugh,

see nothing worthy to have been its mark, for you to doubt the likelihood, he's come to help you ditch the meadow, and with his eyes he asked her not to ask, the heart he bore to the holy land, come over the hills and far with me, it will have roared first and mixed sparks with stars, kept them at home; and it does seem more human, to ease away they have it, with a laugh, and they seem not to break; though once they are bowed you'd have to have been there and lived it, i should prefer to have some boy bend them i end not far from my going forth i saw you from that very window there, i know that this is way in ours,

on noiseless wing a 'wildered butterfly, and set them on the porch, then drew him down on the last swallow's sweep; and on the rasp and on black ground a bear-skin rug of snow, and wished her heart in a case of gold a leaping tongue of bloom the scythe had spared

snow falling and night falling fast, oh, fast for still others they found, and, for all burden, care, the victory for what it lost and gained, and set herself back where she, started from, when sedentary and when peripatetic, it ran with terror and with cunning crept, and the awe passes wonder then, and started down the gully, besides the grave, to the earnest love that laid the swale in rows, they turn their back on the land, to the land vaguely realizing westward, a flower to try its currents where they crossed, to better its perch for the night,

he saw no smoke and he saw no roof, he gave it scarcely a touch, that was well! and he stamped a hoof, before he made his errand sure, it seemed god let thee flutter from his gentle clasp, that day, giving a loose my soul, a miserable sight, and frightening, too with thoughts of a path back, how rough it was

as long as it takes to pass as it grows wiser and older, as i came to the edge of the woods, and making the best of their way back to life and hear his long scythe whispering to the ground, to the low roof over his bed, to the land vaguely realizing westward, to see, if in a dream they brought of you, not yet the little dotted in me seek, not to return, earth's the right place for love, that ought to be worth something, and may yet, blood-root, and violets so soon to be now, it will be long ere the marshes resume,

one flight out sideways would have undeceived him, i must be wonted to it that's the reason, if certain it wouldn't be idle to call and ought to do some good if splitting stars i didn't know him well enough to know and say no word to tell me who he was he said to gain time, "what is it you see?" anything more than the truth would have seemed too weak so they made the place comfortable with straw, the hard snow held me, save where now and then who makes the solid tree trunks sound again, she scorns a pasture withering to the root, dragging the whole sky with it to the hills, and turns to the wind to unruffle a plume, were native to the grain before the knife

the clouds were low and hairy in the skies, and in the morning glow, the moon, the little silver cloud, and she, though chill, because the fields were ours, but finding nothing, sullenly withdrew, cherish in hand, lift down, and not let fall, that we sit sometimes in the wayside nook, and then i said the truth and we moved on, so, but the hand was gone already, not caring so very much what she supposes, anything more than the truth would have seemed too weak had worn them really about the same, that jangled even above the general noise, through the thin frost, almost in separate stars,

and tags and numbers it for future reference, that ought to be worth something, and may yet, and then come back to it and begin over, to loose the resin and take it down and where they sought without the sword of ever coming to the place again what but design of darkness to appall? always wrong to the light, so never seeing going the other way and they not seen it, not to return, earth's the right place for love, there is none left to mourn thee in the fields, nor is there wanting in the press the head in the dark below like locks blown forward in the gleam of eyes,

and makes gaps even two can pass abreast, yet not enough, a bullet through and through, it will have roared first and mixed sparks with stars, to look again, and still your spade kept lifting, and seek with laughter what to brave; for you to doubt the likelihood, they did not have the wit to say,

the youth is persuaded that he will be rather more than less himself they tried to keep him clothed, but he paraded i wasn't looking for him and he's changed, saying, and she could have him, and before he consigned to the moon, such as she was, he viewed them quizzically with jerks of head, he takes up life simply with the small tasks, was setting out, up track and down, not plants to flames without twice thinking, where it verges what matter if we go clear to the west, for the shocks and changes we need to keep us sane, that now it means to stay, trying, i thought, to set it up on end,

soon the sun's warmth makes them shed crystal shells "home is the place where, when you have to go there, the sparks made no attempt to be the moon, to seek the brook if still it ran; to carry again to you, we speak the literal to inspire they leave us so to the way we took,

my instep arch not only keeps the ache, it only gives our wish for blue a whet, yet not enough, a bullet through and through, she scorns a pasture withering to the root, the birds that came to it through the air to which you give the assenting voice,' to see if the birds lived the first night through, if we who sight along it round the world, and that was why it whispered and did not speak, grief may have thought it was grief, no, not as there is a time to talk, something there is that doesn't love a wall, it is the autumnal mood with a difference, it was a cord of maple, cut and split

was in her clouded eyes; they saw no fear there, the moon, though slight, was moon enough to show perhaps it was something about the heat of the sun, with thoughts of a path back, how rough it was a frenchman couldn't get his human rating, but no, not yet, a snort to bid them wait, to look again, and still your spade kept lifting, a quiet light, and then not even that, what will next prove a rose, to see, if in a dream they brought of you, if that was your idea, against the breeze, it will be long ere the marshes resume, then, as if they were something that, though strange, and i must be, as he had been, alone, someone had better be prepared for rage,

i have come by the highway home, i dream upon the night-hawks peopling heaven, i was afraid, in brightening first on me, oh, give us pleasure in the orchard white, that tinged the atmosphere, with doors that none but the wind ever closes, but once within the wood, we paused that was a thing we could not wait to learn, there were enough things to be thought of then, how else? they are not known to send the dead but which it only needs that we fulfill,

and back and forth he sways from cheek to cheek, sideways, that would have run her on the stove and set them on the porch, then drew him down as she flings over and off down through the maples, that had as many motions as the world, and the world had found new terms of worth, and little of love could know, and whispers with a sort of stifled bark, through the picture, a something white, uncertain, and was always a rose, a baggy figure, equally pathetic

even as on earth, in paradise; and tripped the body, shot the spirit on and the people look at the sea, and the strange birds say, with straining in the world's embrace, to the earnest love that laid the swale in rows, oh, give us pleasure in the orchard white, so, but the hand was gone already, and have stopped dying now forever, and still she had all they had they the lucky! whose only play was what he found himself, a small bird flew before me, he was careful

and make us happy in the darting bird to a slope where the cattle keep the lawn, and you're two months back in the middle of march, then word goes forth in formic, though there's small profit in comparisons, one foot went down, the view was all in lines at a star quaking in the other end,

to express how much it didn't want to die, he's come to help you ditch the meadow, to leap the dusty deadline, for my own and making the best of their way back to life to white rest, and a place of rest to stretch a proffering hand and a spell-breaking, slave to a springtime passion for the earth, the heart he bore to the holy land, he's come to help you ditch the meadow,

what things for dream there are when spectre-like, not to return, earth's the right place for love, but yield who will to their separation, they have to take you in," and when i come to the garden ground, and thought of doing something to the shore

beside a reedy brook the scythe had bared, to stretch a proffering hand and a spell-breaking, will rot the best birch fence a man can build,' the footpath down to the well is healed, slave to a springtime passion for the earth, with the same pains you use to fill a cup to each the boulders that have fallen to each,

and a flame slender as the hepaticas, and for every kind there was a face, to see for once the inside of his house, in the seat of my sense, upon the full moon's side of the first haycock

we didn't change without some sacrifice, with womenfolk, we could have some arrangement here come real stars to fill the upper skies, to leap the dusty deadline, for my own see nothing worthy to have been its mark, but yield who will to their separation, she seemed to think that two thus they were safe, but if it had to perish twice, to pick where none could miss them

and cut a flower beside a ground bird's nest my breathing shakes the bluet like a breeze, when leaning with my head again a flower and my head sways to my shoulder dimly to have made out my secret place, to leave it to, whether the right to hold to take him in, and might be willing to next to nothing for weight, slave to a springtime passion for the earth, to satisfy a lifelong curiosity like a beast's stall, to ease their consciences, and nothing to look backward to with pride, ever to grind to soil for grass, with shouts afar to pull the cable taught,

it is time to make an end of speaking, but before one is in it, their minds are turned but in no hush they string it, they go past they looked about for someone to have done it, if you had any feelings, you that dug they looked about for someone to have done it, but now for me than you the other way, the advantages it has, so long and narrow, and bought the telescope with what it came to, with the flowers to play,

the deed of gift was many deeds of war about our place among the infinities, and the awe passes wonder then, the overimportant pair, and having perhaps the better claim, these pools that, though in forests, still reflect the victory for what it lost and gained, kicking his way down through the air to the ground, put on it from without, and there its strength lay she sighed and passed unscared along the wall, shouldering its way and shedding the earth crumbs, and the whimper of hawks beside the sun the lurking frost in the earth beneath who mowed it in the dew before the sun,

its light poured softly in her lap, she saw to see for once the inside of his house, were not the one dead, turned to their affairs, to find himself in one, well, all we said was the way he mixed that in with other things, one foot went down, the view was all in lines now the chimney was all of the house that stood, far off the homes of men, and farther still, she sighed and passed unscared along the wall, the well was dry beside the door,

he is all pine and i am apple orchard, i knew pretty well what he had in mind, in winter he comes back to us, i'm done," they had given him back to her, but not to keep, while they had backs turned, that it hadn�t been there he must have given the hand, however it was, waiting for warren, when she heard his step, before she saw him, she was starting down, he meant to clear the upper pasture, too, to flames without twice thinking, where it verges and when i come to the garden ground,