Poems about bog
But The Wound
and the children no further question
my soul accused me and i quailed
but that old sort was done
but the success was his it seems
while he was making one
tell him just how she sealed you cautious!
and life and i keep even
no one to teach me that new grace
because we love the wound
an awe if it should be like that
but if he ask where you are hid
what else have bogs to do
no other art would do
that arise and set about us
this, and my heart, and all the bees
That Last Day That I Was A Pair
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
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