Poems about design
That It Return
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
Since The Sole Ear I Could Make A
a stranger he must be
if god could make a visit
would never be believed
without design that i could trace
since the sole ear i cared to charm
to wear that perfect pearl
to justify the dream
its little fate to stipulate
Some Good Perhaps To The Wind To The
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;
We Love For What Would You Have To
"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,
She Leaves Them Bitten When She Has To
he bore a green-white stick in his hand,
and a voice that has sounded in my room
and warn them away with a stick for a gun,
that a man for god should strike a blow,
a farm, a countryside, or if he can,
if design govern in a thing so small,
if we who sight along it round the world,
you needn't be afraid he'll leave you this time,"
she leaves them bitten when she has to fly,
and that was why it whispered and did not speak,
it is because like men we look too near,
There He Didn't See,
but a leaf that lingered brown,
if design govern in a thing so small,
but were always a rose,
blind creature; and a while he didn't see,
the bridegroom wished he knew,
there he had built his stolen shack,
though doubtful whether he stayed to see,
to seek the brook if still it ran;
to the ancient lands where it left the shells
and thought of doing something to the shore
and brush the mow with the summer load,
up to the brim, and even above the brim,
they turn their back on the land,
He Looked For From His Thought,
and with his eyes he asked her not to ask,
or anything he looked for from his brother,
he sees days slipping from him that were the best for what they
he stood there bringing march against his thought,
the sound was behind me instead of before,
so small the window frames the whole of it,
what but design of darkness and of night?
the work of hunters is another thing,
is what to make of a diminished thing,
and thought of doing something to the shore
that and the merest curl of cigarette smoke�
and signifies the sureness of the soul,
From Which To Square
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,'
Like Locks Blown Forward In The Head In
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,