When I was young my teachers were the old.
I gave up fire for form till I was cold.
I suffered like a metal being cast.
I went to school to age to learn the past.
Now when I am old my teachers are the young.
What can’t be molded must be cracked and sprung.
I strain at lessons fit to start a suture.
I got to school to youth to learn the future.
But where this old wall burns a sunny cheek,They eddy over it too toppling weakTo blow the earth or anything self-clear;Moisture and color and odor thicken here.The hours of daylight gather atmosphere.
Is it for fear to wet a widow’s eyeThat thou consumest thyself in single life?Ah! if thou issueless shalt hap to die.The world will wail thee, like a makeless wife;The world will be thy widow and still weepThat thou no form of thee hast left behind,When every private widow well may keepBy children’s eyes her…
The heart can think of no devotionGreater than being shore to ocean –Holding the curve of one position,Counting an endless repetition.
O, how thy worth with manners may I sing,When thou art all the better part of me?What can mine own praise to mine own self bring?And what is’t but mine own when I praise thee?Even for this let us divided live,And our dear love lose name of single one,That by this separation I may giveThat…
It was too lonely for her there,And too wild,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…
To me, fair friend, you never can be old,For as you were when first your eye I eyed,Such seems your beauty still. Three winters coldHave from the forests shook three summers’ pride,Three beauteous springs to yellow autumn turn’dIn process of the seasons have I seen,Three April perfumes in three hot Junes burn’d,Since first I saw…
