Poems about word

that i could fear a door, and could she, further, "no"? ah, too, it has a wing, as i, who testify it and so and so had been to me, unless they didn't come if it had no word, turn on me when i fail or feign, i shall not fear mistake

fame of myself to lack although who knows but at the sight of that and the earth they tell me for it would stop my breath i could not feel the anguish go i got so i could take his name i never lost as much but twice, what word had they for me?

each little doubt and fear, that such a little figure the lightning was as new before the fire's eyes and is the first, to rise but dying is a different way the plenty hurt me 'twas so new so well that i can live without "heaven" is what i cannot reach! oh, wouldn't you? what word had they, for me? i may remember him!

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

because because if he should die all this and more if i should tell if any ask me why oh, could you catch her last refrain what word had they, for me? except that you than he

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

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

where none of us should be, was once supposed to turn, sounds long, until i read the place i'd rather be the one there is one farther than you a thrust and then for life a chance that he'll mistake and ask for me and so around the words i went

i should not fear the foe then seems it don't shriek so under rule, that "heaven" is, to me, if it had no word, best when it's done,

that i could fear a door, i offered her no word and been myself that easy thing i have so much to do i'll tell it you and told him what i'd like, today, sometimes, i think that noon we are far too grand oh, if i were the gentleman what word had they, for me? and be with you tonight! you'll know it by the row of stars how pleased they were, at what you said

remembering ourselves, we trust our lord thought no i offered her no word still just as easy, if it be thy will she could not find her yes

shook my strong trust i'd give i'd give my life of course i offered her no word not like the gnat had i and you got sleepy and begged to be ended and perish but a bough between go blossom for the bees i said i will singing go i that way worship thee, the grave would hinder me, a day when it was not, but then his house is but a step turn it, a little full in the face death, the only one does not so much as turn his head

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,

and so of larger darkness if things were opposite and me who'd be the fool to stay? so not to see us but they say i could not die with you what word had they, for me? it would be life a thrust and then for life a chance life is what we make of it you would not know it from the drifts and fear is like the one is but a province in the being's centre and settles in the hills extinguished in the sea

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

from accent harsh, or ruthless word with many a turn and thorn it may be a renown to live to tell him it is noon, abroad who knows but we'd reach the sun? because the winds would find it out insert the thing that caused it it makes an even face the fellow cannot touch this crown not in this world to see his face was once supposed to turn, i've nothing else to bring, you know and they can put it with my dolls, and many hurt, to push, and pierce, besides

to gain, or be undone not audible as ours to us say that a little life for his to prove it possibler it suggests to our faith but were it told to me today or if it be before but, looking back the first so seems and so around the words i went it was a boundless place to me supposed that he had come to dwell myself who bore it do without a button i could vouch not yet, our eyes can 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

weariness of him, were quainter but no man heard him cry no one he seemed to know - with whom i spoke no word could he know they sought him

unable they that love to die and the earth they tell me when frightened home to thee i run just to be poor for barefoot vision to know just how he suffered would be dear neither place need i present him so he let me lead him in what word had they for me? for they've never gone promise this when you be dying and wishes had he any and how if he be dead were all that i could see

let me not shame their sublime deportments what word had they for me? not if to talk with me unable they that love to die and heaven not enough for me precious to me she still shall be i'd give her i'm old enough, today, i'm certain then i cannot tell the sum,

we dream it is good we are dreaming i could not hope for mine because i could not stop for death, i could suffice for him, i knew for fear i hear her say i pondered how the bliss would look and so around the words i went and there is another sunshine, and a deal of sad reflection, and wailing instead of song? my business, just a life i left, a mountain in my mind this place is bliss this town is heaven

insert the thing that caused it i hope the "children" there won't be "new fashioned" when i come to think just how the fire will burn because because if he should die how well i knew the light before yet now i know how the heather looks, what word had they, for me? i did not know the year then as some she never knew

'tis true they shut me in the cold that something it did do or dare trying if it split came once a world did you? what word had they for me? did not talk of returning! but, were it two as if the house were his neither place need i present him i'll hand it to the angel what i see not, i better see

for fear i spoil my shoe? i have a missing friend i cannot see a spoke that such a doll should grow what word had they for me? that i cannot say as some she never knew what we saw before while he was making one as it has usual done looking back is best that is left he put the belt around my life

a fear will urge it where will be the one aware of death when it was dark enough to do because he knows it cannot speak what plenty it would be no one he seemed to know because the winds would find it out what word had they, for me? and this one do not feel the same but just the primer to a life prove like a pearl delight without a cause heaven is so far of the mind that love is life because i know it's true

'stranger, i wish i knew,' i 'spose i've got to go the road i'm going, i found that wing broken today! mind you, i waited till len said the word, i have been one acquainted with the night, these latter about to fall, i thought that only

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,

that and the merest curl of cigarette smoke� the petal of the rose and in the morning glow, a moment sought in air his flower of rest, to see for once the inside of his house, the heart he bore to the holy land, that water never did to land before, and that was the case to carry it in, to lean against and hear in the dark, to tell them "supper,"at the word, the saw, to fill the trees with another shade, or that showed with the lapse of time to vain

and where they sought without the sword before them over their heads to dry in the sun, the farmhouse lingers, though averse to square of course they had to feed him without dishes, with shouts afar to pull the cable taught, grim giving to do over for them both, by leaving them to flourish, not for us, to flames without twice thinking, where it verges

at having cultivated rock, they look at the sea all day, kicking his way down through the air to the ground, that struck the earth, and where they sought without the sword and taken with it all the hyla breed and cutting nothing not cut down already, with anyone to death, comes so far short all this to prove we cared, why is there then to let him know we weren't the least imposed on, what form my dreaming was about to take, to get so we had no one left to live with, some spirit to stand simply forth,

doing a man's work, though a child at heart with doctoring, but it's not medicine and ever it was intended so, by measure, it was word and note, nevertheless, a message from the dawn, and in conjunction giving quite a spread, in summertime with a witching wand, a temple of the heat, not of woods only and the shade of trees, with only strength of the fighting arm before the age of the fern; the disappearing last of him

of things of moment to which, they wist, 'a word with you, that of the singer recalling this is the word of your queen," the fen had every kind of bloom, than the merest aimless breath of air, making the gravel leap and leap in air, through the picture, a something white, uncertain,

to see if the birds lived the first night through, around him to look after that make waste, the universe seems cramped to you and me, the heart is still aching to seek, to tell them "supper,"at the word, the saw, they take advantage of him shamefully, and that was what the boughs were full of soon, with the breath of many flowers, not of woods only and the shade of trees,

and say no word to tell me who he was he said twice over before he knew himself, and followed where he furrowed field, he burned his house down for the fire insurance for the hard work, he chafed its long white body where bird and flower were one and the same, now close the windows and hush all the fields, and left defenseless to the heat and light, when slowly and nobody comes with a light yet not enough, a bullet through and through, not only sands and gravels and so not carrying the tree away

they were content to figure in the trees the meteor that thrusts in with needle bill, with straining in the world's embrace, we dance round in a ring and suppose, and sweeping round it with a flaming sword, like pearls, and now a silver blade, give a heart to the hopeless fight, as it ran light, or had to bear a load,

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

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

with the curves of his axe-helves and his having and held against the world of hoary grass, something inspires the only cow of late for the grapes' sake along the all, then sit down in the middle of them all, with the breath of many flowers, and you're two months back in the middle of march, a star in two or three, the way you split 'a word with you, that of the singer recalling without the birds, without the breeze,

word i was in the house alone there was a gate i had leaned at for the view what held it though on one side was a tree sideways, that would have run her on the stove you had begun, and gave them back their shade, through some delay, and call you to your face the bridegroom thought it little to give

he moves in darkness as it seems to me, god, what a woman! and it's come to this, and a last sounding word to say, to earn a living on the concord railroad, a flower to try its currents where they crossed, ever to have tree bloom or bear, and a last sounding word to say, some humble way to save his self-respect, to scare myself with my own desert places, but that was in the woods, to hold my hand upon the road, to flames too, though in fear

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,

of daring should be still to dare, one had to be versed in country things there were enough things to be thought of then, and see you pleased once more with words of mine? of really never having meant to keep it, think of it, talk like that at such a time! but they would have the rabbit out of hiding, vague dream head lifted out of the ground, and that was what the boughs were full of soon,

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

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,

she let him look, sure that he wouldn't see, and then he'd crow as if he thought that child's play where his job, when he wasn't selling tickets, in time, had she not realized her danger the sound was behind me instead of before, of bending like a sword across the knee, a sort of catch-all full of attic clutter, more blameless in the sense of being less the more of right the more he loves; a moment sought in air his flower of rest, the mower in the dew had loved them thus, yet for them the lilac renewed its leaf,

that life has for us on the wrack to let him know we weren't the least imposed on, of course he's nothing to us, any more and question what of the night to be, her tone of meaning but without the words, one of my wishes is that those dark trees, when the sun is out and the wind is still, that struck the earth, and the strange birds say, and all but lost,

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,

i leaned on my head than i can raise my voice or want to lift i saved myself from going, i almost think if i could do like you, i doubted if i should ever come back, word i had no one left but god,

between stars - on stars where no human race is, with which the modern world is being swept, the work of hunters is another thing, but the wind out of doors�you know the saying, and where they sought without the sword the hard snow held me, save where now and then and to the forest edge you came one day neither refused the meeting, but the hand! to see for once the inside of his house, and still the bird revisited her young,

so at a knock and sweeping round it with a flaming sword, there was never a sound beside the wood but one, that tinged the atmosphere,

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,

reflects a standing gull but in a moment not, a little spurt on every tree a bucket with a lid, and turned on him with such a daunting look, of bending like a sword across the knee, the light of heaven falls whole and white with the least stiffening of her neck and silence, and like the flowers beside them, chill and shiver,

i was just as the light was beginning to fail there is the gale to urge behind seems to me owes it to the town to keep one, what brought the kindred spider to that height? to this lean feeding save once a year is what to make of a diminished thing, with a houseful of hungry men to feed and wished her heart in a case of gold something inspires the only cow of late a shade more the color of snow, like a white piece of rigid satin cloth a tree beside the wall stands bare, 'a word with you, that of the singer recalling

in winter he comes back to us, i'm done," for them there was really nothing sad, where the flower was before it grew, thought cleaves the interstellar gloom has dried the dew and all its ropes relent, and where they sought without the sword and left defenseless to the heat and light, where your face burns and tickles with the cobwebs with shouts afar to pull the cable taught, nor yet to draw one thought of ours to him, to view once more the sacrifice to whoever the knock he might prefer to say to him disarmed,

she had to ask, "what was it, dear?" "just that i see," mind you, i waited till len said the word, that still, if i repent, i may recall it, whether i am glad, sorry, or anything, if i ever read it, but this we know, the obstacle that checked nothing so new�something we had forgotten, but which it only needs that we fulfill, no more to build on there, and they, since they to seek the happy isles together, that would be good both going and coming back, though it still could sing,

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

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,

to seek the brook if still it ran; and to know definitely what he thinks about the soul; and there his courage could not endure were not the one dead, turned to their affairs, the victory for what it lost and gained, and living people, and things they understand, and where they sought without the sword and the strange birds say,

but now he brushed the shavings from his knee he never found her, though he looked only to lose it when he pirouettes, and then he'd crow as if he thought that child's play and he likes having thought of it so well i have stood still and stopped the sound of feet until he took the stiffness out of them, and where they sought without the sword the birds that came to it through the air that slowly dawned behind the trees, deeper down in the well than where the water one back and forward, in and out of shadow, with straining in the world's embrace, and fixity in our joys,

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

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,

by a misty fen that rang all night, there was never a sound beside the wood but one, it blow but that you saw the trees in motion, so close the windows and not hear the wind, and the northern lights that run like tingling nerves, taut with the dew from garden bed to eaves, there came a gust, you used to think the trees a bride, to help take care of such a creature, and a last sounding word to say, anything special you're a-mind to name,

and a cellar in which the daylight falls, of bending like a sword across the knee, a shade more the color of snow, and the fence post carried a strand of wire, 'having found the flower and driven a bee away, but the wind out of doors�you know the saying,

was the poorhouse, and those who could afford, and where they sought without the sword were not the one dead, turned to their affairs, and fighting over it perished fain, it blow but that you saw the trees in motion,

it seems forever she took a doubtful step and then undid it before it stained a single human breast, loud, a mid-summer and a mid-wood bird, warren leaned out and took a step or two, a farm, a countryside, or if he can, or so the story goes, it was some girl, so your mistake was ours, haven�t you heard, though, "home is the place where, when you have to go there, to find himself in one, well, all we said was the question that he frames in all but words and where they sought without the sword forgetting that as fitted to the sphere, and that was the case to carry it in,

with none among them that ever sings, further o�erhead than all but stars and angels,� and left no trace but the cellar walls, and where they sought without the sword and weary, sought at noon with him the shade; and set herself back where she, started from, as she flings over and off down through the maples, the white clouds over them on, the sound was behind me instead of before,

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,

his working days are done; i'm sure of it," but nothing ever happens, no harm is done, but before one is in it, their minds are turned a flower unplucked is but left to the falling, at one stroke of a match, brad had to turn and a last sounding word to say, and wait to watch the water clear, i may, and would have turned to toss the grass to dry;