Poems about familiar
To Perish In Her Recompense
they ask but our delight
to our familiar eyes
then my face take her recompense
to perish in her hand!
to whom this would have pointed me
i shouldn't like to come
if i couldn't thank you,
that they remember me;
when i could take it in my hand
it could not hold a sigh
i dared not enter, lest a face
and so and so had been to me,
so notelessly are made!
That I Was Gone And When I Was
too much pathos in their faces
i made my soul familiar with her extremity
while i was gone and i too late
i'm so accustomed to my fate
seems it to my hooded thinking
that i could fear a door,
and when i was not heeding,
the door as sudden shut, and i,
unit, like death, for whom?
and if they have to try,
Across The Least Knot, Equal To The Least
as witness all within
and tags and numbers it for future reference,
only, of course, they can't sustain the part,
which has its sounds, familiar, like the roar
the faded earth, the heavy sky,
the total sky almost without defect,
free from the least knot, equal to the strain
shouldering its way and shedding the earth crumbs,
with the least stiffening of her neck and silence,
the light of heaven falls whole and white
across the lines of straighter darker trees,