Are ignorant of its Concern
As if it were not born.
Through all their former Places, we
Like Individuals go
Who something lost, the seeking for
Is all that’s left them, now—
Similar Posts
1068
Pathetic from the GrassA minor Nation celebratesIts unobtrusive Mass.No Ordinance be seenSo gradual the GraceA pensive Custom it becomesEnlarging Loneliness.Antiquest felt at NoonWhen August burning lowArise this spectral CanticleRepose to typifyRemit as yet no GraceNo Furrow on the GlowYet a Druidic DifferenceEnhances Nature now
‘Twas comfort in her Dying Room
A short relief to have the windWalk boldly up and knock –Diversion from the Dying ThemeTo hear the children play –But wrong the moreThat these could liveAnd this of ours must die.
Our lives are Swiss —
Till some odd afternoonThe Alps neglect their CurtainsAnd we look farther on!Italy stands the other side!While like a guard between —The solemn Alps —The siren AlpsForever intervene!
To my quick ear the leaves conferred;
I could not find a privacyFrom Nature’s sentinels.In cave if I presumed to hide,The walls began to tell;Creation seemed a mighty crackTo make me visible.
329
‘Twas sorry, that we were—For where the Holiday should beThere publishes a Tear—Nor how Ourselves be justified—Since Grief and Joy are doneSo similar—An OptizanCould not decide between—
I’m nobody! Who are you?
Then there’s a pair of us — don’t tell!They’d banish — you know!How dreary to be somebody!How public like a frogTo tell one’s name the livelong dayTo an admiring bog!