Poems about sorrow
I Touched The Sorrow
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
He And So Around The Sorrow
only god detect the sorrow
thou notice us no more
that but for love of us
and so around the words i went
and ways i knew not that i knew till then
then we shake tim and i
he and i revel
i gave myself to him
i could see it now
Gratitude Is Not The Heavens Weighed The Mention
only god detect the sorrow
gratitude is not the mention
the poverty that was not wealth
a value struggle it exist
we bought to ease their place
our share of morning
the heavens weighed the most by far
As One Should Have Been Too Saved I
they're here, though; not a creature failed
i should have been too saved i see
i cannot be ashamed
as one should come to town
refer to possibly,
is difficult, and still
is easy, possibly
ah, too, it has a wing,
into this port, if i might come,
not for the sorrow, done me
now, do you doubt that your bird was true?
of all the birds that be
their coming mentioned be,
But We Might Learn To Be Ended
no more he singeth mournful, her sadness she doth lose,
and you got sleepy and begged to be ended
and push it with my fingers next
not for the sorrow, done me
but we might learn to like the heaven,
it takes me all the while to poise
what comfort was it wisdom was
but dying is a different way
pounce on his bruises one say or three
when we inspect that's audible
the mold-life all forgotten now
you and eternity the
the general heavens upon
They're Here, Though; Not For The Might Of
they're here, though; not a creature failed
to what, could we presume
when it began, or if there were
as if it held but the might of a child
not for the sorrow, done me
The Heart Is Still Aching To A Quiet
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,
The Same,
but thought has need of no such things,
but the wind out of doors�you know the saying,
that tinged the atmosphere,
the way he mixed that in with other things,
where bird and flower were one and the same,
with sorrow and dread,
and since there were but two of them,
of many times his size,