Poems about piece
Some One The Success Was His It Would
as misery
our feet reluctant led
but the success was his it seems
is seldom but as fair
some one the sum could tell,
it would never be common more i said
when was it can you tell
what death knows so well
and not begin again
and men too straight to stoop again ,
pass back and forth, before my brain
if joy to put my piece away
to gad my little being out
When One Has Failed To Put My Piece
death, but our rapt attention
the worm doth woo the mortal, death claims a living bride,
a fear will urge it where
when one has failed to stop them
the loss had been to me
if joy to put my piece away
Forever Might Be Short, I Dared Not Open,
i dared not open, lest a face
and told him what i'd like, today,
if joy to put my piece away
when was it can you tell
god does it every day
as you do the sun
the drums don't follow me with tunes
forever might be short, i thought to show
"but i have chosen them!"
don't you know me?
why do they shut me out of heaven?
it struck me every day
it is occasionally
the shapes though were similar
Of A Temple Of The Pressure Of The
like a deep piece of some old running river
it keeps the pressure of a ladder-round,
a temple of the heat,
of the far-distant breaking wave,
such white luxuriance of may for ours,
of easy wind and downy flake,
and left defenseless to the heat and light,
I Understand, It Is Not The Truth And
trying to coax him off with pocket-money,
he'd tear to pieces, even a bed to lie on,
from up there always? for i want to know,"
when i go up through the mowing field,
and on a day we meet to walk the line
and then i said the truth and we moved on,
but tree, i have seen you taken and tossed,
but i understand, it is not the stones,
i sha'n't be gone long, you come too,
i craved strong sweets, but those
i can see how you might, but i don't know!
i don't know rightly whether any man can,"
done so much and i know not how much more
it is because like men we look too near,
The Trees Must, Let Them Silently Toss;
if the trees must, let them silently toss;
the water for which we may have to look
and bring it to market when you please
and listen - how it ought to go!
upon my way to sleep before it fell,
still it wouldn't reward the watcher to stay awake
he'd tear to pieces, even a bed to lie on,
but it were vain to tell her so,
if i was not to speak of it to you
and the sweet pang it cost me not to call
you make me angry, i'll come down to you,
i should prefer to have some boy bend them
but i may be one who does not care
and they seem not to break; though once they are bowed
their characters, or whether they are safe
A Year
he'd tear to pieces, even a bed to lie on,
held it a moment where it was, to calm me,
a brook to none but who remember long,
not to strike a blow for god
to this lean feeding save once a year
to think of the right thing to say too late,
grim giving to do over for them both,
and knock to the echoes as beggars for roses,
The Other End The Middle Of Them All,
the lurking frost in the earth beneath
the bridegroom came forth into the porch
and at the other end the microscope,
and work was little in the house,
then sit down in the middle of them all,
to meet him in the doorway with the news
the woods come back to the mowing field;
to the dark and lament,
to the land vaguely realizing westward,
the farmhouse lingers, though averse to square
some good perhaps to someone in the world,
and make us happy in the darting bird
well i know where to hie me in the dawn,
he'd tear to pieces, even a bed to lie on,
That I Must Say It Didn't Do A
to any watch they keep?
sometimes we don't, we've a good piece of shore
because it didn't do a thing but split
and i must say it dealt
that i should have guessed
I Was Just As The Color Of The
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
Across The Other Go On Black Ground A
like a white piece of rigid satin cloth
and on black ground a bear-skin rug of snow,
'twas a nest full of young birds on the ground
the disappearing last of him
across the sill from the outer gloom,
and tripped the body, shot the spirit on
and let the other go on a way,
on his particular time and personal sight,
some good perhaps to someone in the world,
he resolves to become intelligible, at least to himself, since there
they tried to keep him clothed, but he paraded
thus till he had them almost feeling dared
in time, had she not realized her danger
with what was another man's work for gain,