Was thinkin’ the toss and the call in the breast of the lover
So everlastin’ as the sea.
Heer’s the same little fishes that sputter an swim,
Wi’ the moon’s old glim on the grey, wet sand;
An’ him no more to me mor me to him
Than the wind goin’ over my hand.
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Seventeen years ago you said
And everybody thinks that you are dead,But I.So I, as I grow stiff and coldTo this and that say Good-bye too;And everybody sees that I am oldBut you.And one fine morning in a sunny laneSome boy and girl will meet and kiss and swearThat nobody can love their way againWhile over thereYou will have smiled,…
Sometimes in the over-heated house, but not for long,
I see myself among the crowd,Where no one fits the singer to his song,Or sifts the unpainted from the painted facesOf the people who are always on my stair;They were not with me when I walked in heavenly places;But could I spareIn the blind Earth’s great silences and spaces,The din, the scuffle, the long stareIf…
We passed each other, turned and stopped for half an hour, then went our way,
But no man can move mountains in a day.So this hard thing is yet to do.But first I want your life:–before I die I want to seeThe world that lies behind the strangeness of your eyes,There is nothing gay or green there for my gathering, it may be,Yet on brown fields there liesA haunting purple…
I so liked Spring last year
The thrushes too-Because it was these you so liked to hear-I so liked you.This year’s a different thing,-I’ll not think of you.But I’ll like the Spring because it is simply springAs the thrushes do.
It is the clay what makes the earth stick to his spade;
The others have gone; they were tired, and half afraidBut I would rather be standing here;There is nowhere else to go. I have seen this placeFrom the windows of the train that’s going pastAgainst the sky. This is rain on my face –It was raining here when I saw it last.There is something horrible about…
From our low seat beside the fire
Or raked the ashes, stooping soWe scarcely saw the sun and rainThrough the small curtained window-pane,Or looked much higherThan this same quiet red or burned-out fire,Tonight we heard a call,A voice on the sharp air,And felt a breath stirring our hair,A flame within us. Something swift and tallSwept in and out and that was all.Was…