And the Northern Lights that run like tingling nerves.The sun and moon get crossed, but they never touch,Nor strike out fire from each other nor crash out loud.The planets seem to interfere in their curves –But nothing ever happens, no harm is done.We may as well go patiently on with our life,And look elsewhere than…
Before we were her people. She was oursIn Massachusetts, in Virginia,But we were England’s, still colonials,Possessing what we still were unpossessed by,Possessed by what we now no more possessed.Something we were withholding made us weakUntil we found out that it was ourselvesWe were withholding from our land of living,And forthwith found salvation in surrender.Such as…
Like a white piece of rigid satin cloth —Assorted characters of death and blightMixed ready to begin the morning right,Like the ingredients of a witches’ broth —A snow-drop spider, a flower like a froth,And dead wings carried like a paper kite.What had that flower to do with being white,The wayside blue and innocent heal-all?What brought…
I like to think some boy’s been swinging them.But swinging doesn’t bend them down to stay.Ice-storms do that. Often you must have seen themLoaded with ice a sunny winter morningAfter a rain. They click upon themselvesAs the breeze rises, and turn many-colouredAs the stir cracks and crazes their enamel.Soon the sun’s warmth makes them shed…
They’ve got it settled wrong, and I can prove it.Flattered I must be to have two towns fightingTo make a present of me to each other.They don’t dispose me, either one of them,To spare them any trouble. Double trouble’sAlways the witch’s motto anyway.I’ll double theirs for both of them- you watch me.They’ll find they’ve got…
But I had the cottages in a rowUp to their shining eyes in snow.And I thought I had the folk within:I had the sound of a violin;I had a glimpse through curtain lacesOf youthful forms and youthful faces.I had such company outward bound.I went till there were no cottages found.I turned and repented, but coming…
She asked her father and he told her, ‘Maple—Maple is right.’‘But teacher told the schoolThere’s no such name.’‘Teachers don’t know as muchAs fathers about children, you tell teacher.You tell her that it’s M-A-P-L-E.You ask her if she knows a maple tree.Well, you were named after a maple tree.Your mother named you. You and she just…
And I was one of the children toldSome of the blowing dust was gold.All the dust the wind blew highAppeared like god in the sunset sky,But I was one of the children toldSome of the dust was really gold.Such was life in the Golden Gate:Gold dusted all we drank and ate,And I was one of…
And since there were but two of them,And no child,And work was little in the house,She was free,And followed where he furrowed field,Or felled tree.She rested on a log and tossedThe fresh chips,With a song only to herselfOn her lips.And once she went to break a boughOf black alder.She strayed so far she scarcely heardWhen…
There had to be, I understood,For there to have been any good.It was by having been contrastedThat good and bad so long had lasted.That’s why discrimination reigns.That’s why we need a lot of brainsIf only to discriminate‘Twixt what to love and what to hate.To quote the oracle at Delphi,Love thy neighbor as thyself, aye,And hate…
