Poems about while
The Lingering And The Lingering And The Stain
the lingering and the stain i mean
what comfort was it wisdom was
just him not me
and golden hang while farther up
What If The Sea To Fill
then we hide our brave face
while other went the sea to fill
what if the bird from journey far
and then the list is done
I For Wonder At His Woe
our pace took sudden awe
and i for wonder at his woe
yet held my breath, the while
he hurts a little, though
Yet Held My Breath, The Last
to gain it, men have borne
and wishfulness in me arose
and through a riddle, at the last
yet held my breath, the while
The One Aware Of Death
will be the one aware of death
the first day that i was a life
a passing universe put on,
his speech was like the push
the dying as it were a height
as even while i looked dissolved
then eddies like a rose away
how midnight felt, at first to me
by it my title take
While I
within my income these could lie
do he dwell or nay know i
as even while i looked dissolved
when earth cannot be had
and then she ceased to bear it
while i was reaching him
and now the chance had come
and i have ceased to wonder why
what little of him we possessed
the lonesome for they know not what
so safer guess with just my soul
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,
Altho' I Could Fear A Smile, To Think
that i could fear a door
altho' i prove it, just in time
praying that i might be
i know, and they know me;
so well that i can live without
to think just how the fire will burn
they ask but our delight
life is what we make of it
the lightning playeth all the while
this being comfort then
a smile, to show you, when this deep
and hit a world, at every plunge,
the dying as it were a height
Tell Me By Time The Hours Meek
so wondering thro' the hours meek
taught me by time the lower way
just revelation to the beloved
a thrust and then for life a chance
is not a controvertible
it varies in the chin
put it in latin left of my school
it takes me all the while to poise
tell me how far the morning leaps
when i forget to tease
I Fear That Never Wrote To Me
and tell him charge thee speak it plain
how sweet i shall not lack in vain
they may not finally say, yes
i'm glad they did believe it
that never wrote to me
i have another trust"
i learned at least what home could be
i need no further argue
for thinking while i die
i fear that he is grand
Held My Ears, And Now, I'm Different
they doubt to witness it
we waited while she passed
her steady boat be seen
and held my ears, and like a thief
and now, i'm different from before,
bereft i was of what i knew not
will suit me just as well
The Sound Ones, Like The Instant That We
too near to heaven to fear
death doubts it argues from the ground
the instant that we meet
the sound ones, like the hills shall stand
we speculated fair, on every subject, but the grave
when it began, or if there were
both went to see,
all i may, if small,
if it be, i wake a bourbon,
oh if there may departing be
they leave us with the infinite,
and held my ears, and like a thief
while just a girl at school,
When He Was Strong
wherefore it shut when he was by
would but some god inform him
if you remember, and were saved
their coming mentioned be,
i will forget the light,
i meant to have but modest needs
when it begun or if there were
his house was not no sign had he
the last night that she lived
but he who weigheth while the rest
and said that i was strong
That Sense Was Reaching Him
his habit is severe
while i was reaching him
was it the mat winked,
that sense was breaking through
that if the spirit like to hide
but say my apron bring the sticks
for fear i hear her say
So, I Had Worn It, Every Day,
dying annuls the power to kill,
it burned me in the night
see the bird reach it!
we bee and i live by the quaffing
to wait an hour is long
it is too difficult a grace
now, do you doubt that your bird was true?
so, i could buy it
for i had worn it, every day,
and been myself that easy thing
then how the grief got sleepy some
it takes me all the while to poise
"my Business But A Boundless Place To Me
and fear is like the one
as that the slave is gone,
while he was making one
he forgot and i remembered
i shan't need it then
you will know i'm trying
how they will tell the story
some that never lay
and let him hear it drip
it was a boundless place to me
"my business but a life i left
where was once a room
so miserable a sound at first
Till Love That You Know
who misery sustain
of savors make us conscious
to no one that you know
till love that was and love too best to be
and life was not so ample i
i do not own a house
"why do i love" you, sir?
i knew not but the next
we trust that she was willing
was he afraid or tranquil
while other went the sea to fill
as one should come to town
and the earth they tell me
He Shifts The Stem A Year
without the weariness
the lightning playeth all the while
called to my full the crescent dropped
put the thought in advance a year
saying itself in new infection
it seems a curious town
he shifts the stem a little
cross it, and overcome the bee
she runs without the look of feet
As We Who Danger And The Dead Had
who danger and the dead had faced,
and when i looked again
the only shows i see
he found my being set it up
i never thought to see
i thought how yellow it would look
so short way off it seems
as we who never can
while he was making one
i never put it down
That The While To Poise
for frequent, all my sense obscured
so seemed to choose my door
it takes me all the while to poise
when it has just contained a life
is made a secret to unfold
it's somewhat in the cold
but that the little figure
that such was not the posture
the summit is not given
in the parcel be the merchant
just two the bearer
but that will hold
a fear will urge it where
they can afford a sun
it should not be among
He Found My Being Set It Has No
a sepulchre, fears frost, no more
't is the seal, despair,
it has no future but itself
what day be dark to me
it takes me all the while to poise
he found my being set it up
is enough for me
i could bring you jewels had i a mind to
Without The While
without the loneliness
deeper than without
but the forty
the lightning playeth all the while
to show the sun the way
some manner of the hair
Her Polar Time They Will Be What
the hunger does not cease
and they will differ if they do
i meant to have but modest needs
how fitter they will be for want
the maker of ourselves be what
the lightning playeth all the while
and hungered for the same
her polar time behind
but held her gravity aloft
that held the dams had parted hold
there came one drop of giant rain,
first time they try the sky!
whether my bark went down at sea
But For Fear The Sea Should Part
for fear the squirrels know,
of shadow, or of squirrel, haply
existing, while we stare,
as if the checks were given,
as if the sea should part
to tell the very last they said
they said that jesus always came
do they know that this is "amherst"
but nature lost the date of this
that but for love of us
but the least push of joy
i thought that such were for the saints,
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
Kiss The Offer Of Him That Day
tell all the truth but tell it slant
savior! i've no one else to tell
his own would fall so more
it take the tale for true
what come of him that day
had he the offer of
and kiss the hills for me, just once;
and such a wagon! while i live
When Choice Of Life Is That Later Thing
it's such a little thing to weep
love is that later thing than death
like other new things shows largest then
the lightning playeth all the while
when choice of life is past
with many a turn and thorn
without the other therefore
For Me
power is only pain
while oceans and the north must be
for these were only put to death
some things that fly there be
a rich man might not notice it
no message, but a sigh
and heaven not enough for me
or else forgive not me
i could suffice for him, i knew
and if indeed i fail,
had all my life but been mistake
as pride were all it could
most i love the cause that slew me,
and i, and silence, some strange race
But He Must Count The Experiment Of Our
faith the experiment of our lord
for the soul's comprising
to leave me in the atom's tomb
to lose it in the sea
to lose one's faith surpass
but he must count the drops himself
yet held my breath, the while
the quiet ages picked it up
The World
and overtaken in the dark
the light his action, and the dark
this is my letter to the world
it takes me all the while to poise
it only moved as do the suns
the fact of famine could not be
of shrinking ways she did not fright
Yet Held My Breath, The Same
lest firmament should fail for me
they'll carry him!
and this one do not feel the same
then "great" it be if that please thee
but tell him that it ceased to feel
best grief is tongueless before he'll tell
if one wake at midnight better
yet held my breath, the while
and fear is like the one
it's thoughts and just two heart
it suggests to our faith
we grow accustomed to the dark
that arise and set about us
but tell him that it ceased to feel
But We Might Learn To Be Ended
no more he singeth mournful, her sadness she doth lose,
and you got sleepy and begged to be ended
and push it with my fingers next
not for the sorrow, done me
but we might learn to like the heaven,
it takes me all the while to poise
what comfort was it wisdom was
but dying is a different way
pounce on his bruises one say or three
when we inspect that's audible
the mold-life all forgotten now
you and eternity the
the general heavens upon
As Well To Me
too rescued fear too dim to me
it's too rouge
it was a little tie
to him, it would be death
a pope, or something of that kind!
still, had it such a value
what would the dower be,
if you should get there first
i am not used to hope
as if for you to choose,
i liked as well to see
for thinking while i die
You It You Almost Pitied It Wisdom Was
what comfort was it wisdom was
and the surrender mine
ours be the tossing wild though the sea
could i do more for thee
you almost pitied it you it worked so
i too if he
i knew so perfect yesterday
for thinking while i die
myself the term between
some work for immortality
The While
patience of itself
the lightning playeth all the while
and then it's time to strike my tent
and what a privilege to be
nor does the night forget
Just This Time, Some Perfect Year
'tis true that deity to stoop
and fear is like the one
for such, the angels go
if when the sun reveal,
a giant eye to eye with you, had been
who put a head away
away from me
yet held my breath, the while
how just this time, some perfect year
she looks down just as often
it don't sound so terrible quite as it did
the face i carry with me last
when i could take it in my hand
just as he spoke it from his hands
if he put away
Only A Bee Will Miss It Home
how he stretched his anguish to us
her needle would not go
as some she never knew
as even while i looked dissolved
that time to take it home
when going to the barn
only a bee will miss it
happy it be for you a beggar's
when choice of life is past
that is the break of day!
parting is all we know of heaven,
the wind didn't come from the orchard today
the quiet ages picked it up
While It And Comes But One Air
he never saw me in this life
and when i looked again
while it and i lap one air
death is but one and comes but once
the quiet ages picked it up
though it took all my store
not till the last was answered
were going i had often thought
it cannot be again
so say if queen it be
to cheat herself, it seemed she tried
but only to himself is known
is but a symbol of the place
the lady with the amulet will face
and let the fire through
Yet Small She Sighs If All
and people come
yet small she sighs if all is all
when one turned smiling to the land
as even while i looked dissolved
What If It Be
the grave would hinder me,
what and if it be
it takes me all the while to poise
what if i file this mortal off
and yet existence some way back
as fair as our idea
and so, i thought the other way,
or better, run away
Somebody Has Lost The Little Stone
but do one face us suddenly
i live with him i see his face
and somebody has lost the face
when light is put away
it's such a little thing to weep
though you're very far
and been myself that easy thing
how happy is the little stone
that bells should ring till all should know
it takes me all the while to poise
of all the souls that stand create
and if they have to try,
i should not dare to leave my friend,
i never saw the sea;
A Tongue To Him The Crowd
and scant to him the crowd
and golden hang while farther up
to miss it beggars so
i could die to know
had i presumed to hope
although i put away his life
he could suffice for me
or did it just begin?
a tongue to tell him i am true!
Pass Back And Then I Started Too,
but our anticipation
when that you met it with before
had it remained to speak
that often as a cloud it met
you will not wake them up,"
and come next hour to look,
and then i started too,
pass back and forth, before my brain
their coming mentioned be,
but we, who know,
while the old couple, just astir,
or think of, with a sigh
That I Spoil My Life
for fear i spoil my shoe?
i have a missing friend
i cannot see a spoke
that such a doll should grow
what word had they for me?
that i cannot say
as some she never knew
what we saw before
while he was making one
as it has usual done
looking back is best that is left
he put the belt around my life
Never I Mind The Former, Blew Away,
betrays the solitude,
a light, for her, did solemn glow,
the former, blew away,
and when thanksgiving, came,
and never i mind the sea;
yet held my breath, the while
they spurn the air, as t'were too mean
To The Ancient Lands Where It Than Just
but finding nothing, sullenly withdrew,
soft petals, yes, but not so barren quite,
blind creature; and a while he didn't see,
when he did what he did and burned his house down,
for him to conquer, he learned all there was
he's trying to lift, straining to lift himself,"
to rest from his besetting fears,
give a heart to the hopeless fight,
and there's more to it than just window-views
to the ancient lands where it left the shells
then lightly stooped to it and fluttering clung,
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,
Wished Her Heart In A Garden Of
it stands in a garden of old-fashioned roses,
and wished her heart in a case of gold
without the gift of sight,
the body of one of their dead
thus of old the douglas did,
a temple of the heat,
short of the perch their languid flight was toward;
and the fence post carried a strand of wire,
a temple of the heat,
the figure of our being less that two
all song of the woods is crushed like some
so small the window frames the whole of it,
the measure of the little while
thought cleaves the interstellar gloom
Question What Of The Boughs Were Full
some humble way to save his self-respect,
hearts not averse to being beguiled,
the farmhouse lingers, though averse to square
and question what of the night to be,
the sparks made no attempt to be the moon,
friends make pretense of following to the grave,
of bending like a sword across the knee,
the flow of - was it musk
the measure of the little while
and that was what the boughs were full of soon,
out of the winter things he fashions a story of modern love,
some resting flower of yesterday's delight,
all simply in the springing of the year,
under the hand of the village barber,
and that was what the boughs were full of soon,
The Dark Of The Pleasure Of Ether,
wild, earily shattered rose,
autumn, yes, winter was in the wind;
first soldier, and then poet, and then both,
but the secret sits in the middle and knows,
the doctor put him in the dark of ether,
that fate had made thee for the pleasure of the wind,
the measure of the little while
I Saw Does Still Abide,
i felt my standpoint shaken
i'd like to get away from earth awhile
from up there always? for i want to know,"
in winter he comes back to us, i'm done,"
seek not in me the bit i capital,
i would not come in,
and tell you that i saw does still abide,
i almost think if i could do like you,
if i can change it, oh, i won't, i won't!"
i don't know where it's likely to go better,
i asked him well beforehand, `don't you get one!'
off he goes always when i need him most,
but one thing about it, it mustn't get warm,
Pan Came To Where It Bent In The
could only have had an influence on birds
while they had backs turned, that it hadn�t been there
see nothing worthy to have been its mark,
too far beyond him to be gathered in,
to where it bent in the undergrowth;
it was far in the sameness of the wood;
for a few swift gleams of the angry brand,
and thought of doing something to the shore
some good perhaps to someone in the world,
and making the best of their way back to life
as i came to the edge of the woods,
pan came out of the woods one day,
and, tired of aimless circling in one place,
The Wood;
and the body he wore
in all the country he did command
he meant to clear the upper pasture, too,
they bring the telephone and telegraph,
for the wood wakes, and you are here for proof,
but they would have the rabbit out of hiding,
the measure of the little while
the fruited bough of the juniper
it was far in the sameness of the wood;
the tuft of flowers
the dead of the commissary
the headless aftermath,
the gathering of the souls for birth,
Making The Last Went, Heavy With Dew,
the measure of the little while
i dream upon the opposing lights of the hour,
the total sky almost without defect,
and showed him, through a manhole in the floor,
making the gravel leap and leap in air,
before the last went, heavy with dew,
they might find fuel there, in withered brake,
were not the one dead, turned to their affairs,
even the bravest that are slain
Such White Luxuriance Of The Measure Of Earth,
with the glittering things,
to go with the drift of things,
the measure of the little while
on any sheet the least display of mind,
and signifies the sureness of the soul,
with the breath of many flowers,
the spoils of the dead,
and you're two months back in the middle of march,
a moment sought in air his flower of rest,
the curve of earth, and striking, break their own;
that and the merest curl of cigarette smoke�
such white luxuriance of may for ours,
But I May Recall It,
while i fry their bacon, much they care!
but it's not elves exactly, and i'd rather
i let it lie there till i hope it slept,
that still, if i repent, i may recall it,
but i may be one who does not care
while i fry their bacon, much they care!
you have only to ask me, and i can tell,
did ever you feel so? i hope you never,
i don't stand still and look around
do we know any better where we are,
what matter if we go clear to the west,
and listen - how it ought to go!
the place it reached to blackened instantly,
but no, not yet, a snort to bid them wait,
But Behind's Behind, The Worst That You
can but give ear to that sweet cry
but behind's behind, the worst that you can do
don't carry it to someone else this time,
i shall not forget how his laugh rang out,
but i went near to see with my own eyes,
i brought not here to read, it seems, but hold
other folks have to, and why shouldn't i?
somewhere out of this house, how can i make you "
while i fry their bacon, much they care!
He Meant To Flames Without Twice Thinking, Where
he is all pine and i am apple orchard,
i knew pretty well what he had in mind,
in winter he comes back to us, i'm done,"
they had given him back to her, but not to keep,
while they had backs turned, that it hadn�t been there
he must have given the hand, however it was,
waiting for warren, when she heard his step,
before she saw him, she was starting down,
he meant to clear the upper pasture, too,
to flames without twice thinking, where it verges
and when i come to the garden ground,