Poems about bead
If He Were Opposite And Made As He
when frightened home to thee i run
not to cry tim and i
that i would instant dive
i have a missing friend
they looked like frightened beads, i thought;
oh, dear, i guess if he were a boy
and made as he would eat me up -
if things were opposite and me
as stood you here
They'll Recollect How Cold I Knew No More
and he i pushed with sudden force
i knew no more of want or cold
and when the hills be full
and when the sung go down
these are the days when birds come back
were he to tell extremely sorry
they'll recollect how cold i looked
they looked like frightened beads, i thought;
and now, i'm different from before,
Tell You All Your Dreams Were Living
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
I Thought
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,
List To The Love Of The Apple
she is as in a field of silken tent
that the apple's a rose,
she bellows on a knoll against the sky,
the beady spider, the flower like a froth,
the graveyard draws the living still,
and the fragile bluets clustered there
and all the rest for them permissible ease,
and list to the love of these,
not of woods only and the shade of trees,
with only strength of the fighting arm
But Thought Has Need Of Course, Are A
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,
Where The Foe Thrust Back Unsafe Beyond The
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
The Beady Spider, The Wind Out Of
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,