Poems about season
The Only One
the soul condemned to be
that at the last, it should not be a novel agony
death, the only one
of the seasons and the sun,
upon the mortal side,
the dust did scoop itself like hands
How Short It Would Split His Table's
offended by the wind
could i do more for thee
by means of it in god's ear
the brain is deeper than the sea
of all the birds that be
of the seasons and the sun,
i never saw the sea;
i never saw before
it was the limit of my dream
and this of all my hopes
his table's spread too high for us
for it would split his heart, to know it
how short it takes to make a bride
just a look at the horses
the purple could not keep the east,
Slave To Break A Great Wave From It
but i may be one who does not care
i have to be gone for a season or so,
it never will show much flower or fruit,
going the other way and they not seen it,
and broken it, and used therefrom
though it still could sing,
a great wave from it going over them,
and once she went to break a bough
to leap the dusty deadline, for my own
of their worth for you to treasure,
slave to a springtime passion for the earth,
`as All Must Be,' I Have To Be
`as all must be,' i said within my heart,
a tree's leaves may be ever so good,
he may be better than appearances,
i have to be gone for a season or so,