Poems on the topic: transience

Poems on the topic “transience” on Poets.by.

ContemplativeEmily Dickinson

When Roses cease to bloom, Sir,

When Roses cease to bloom, Sir, And Violets are done -- When Bumblebees in solemn flight Have passed beyond the Sun -- The hand that paused to gather Upon this Summer's day Will idle lie -- in Auburn -- Then take my flowers -- pray!
ContemplativeEmily Dickinson

All but Death, can be Adjusted --

All but Death, can be Adjusted -- Dynasties repaired -- Systems -- settled in their Sockets -- Citadels -- dissolved -- Wastes of Lives -- resown with Colors By Succeeding Springs -- Death -- unto itself -- Exception -- Is exempt from Change --
ContemplativeEmily Dickinson

If I should cease to bring a Rose

If I should cease to bring a Rose Upon a festal day, 'Twill be because beyond the Rose I have been called away -- If I should cease to take the names My buds commemorate -- 'Twill be because Death's finger Claps my murmuring lip!
ContemplativeEmily Dickinson

Go not too near a House of Rose --

Go not too near a House of Rose -- The depredation of a Breeze -- Or inundation of a Dew Alarms its walls away -- Nor try to tie the Butterfly, Nor climb the Bars of Ecstasy, In insecurity to lie Is Joy's insuring quality.
ContemplativeEmily Dickinson

The last of Summer is Delight --

The last of Summer is Delight -- Deterred by Retrospect. 'Tis Ecstasy's revealed Review -- Enchantment's Syndicate. To meet it -- nameless as it is -- Without celestial Mail -- Audacious as without a Knock To walk within the Veil.
ContemplativeEmily Dickinson

Beauty -- be not caused -- It Is --

Beauty -- be not caused -- It Is -- Chase it, and it ceases -- Chase it not, and it abides -- Overtake the Creases In the Meadow -- when the Wind Runs his fingers thro' it -- Deity will see to it That You never do it --
ContemplativeEmily Dickinson

'Twould ease -- a Butterfly --

'Twould ease -- a Butterfly -- Elate -- a Bee -- Thou'rt neither -- Neither -- thy capacity -- But, Blossom, were I, I would rather be Thy moment Than a Bee's Eternity -- Content of fading Is enough for me -- Fade I unto Divinity -- And Dying -- Lifetime -- Ample as the Eye -- Her least attention raise on me --
ContemplativeEmily Dickinson

I'm sorry for the Dead -- Today --

I'm sorry for the Dead -- Today -- It's such congenial times Old Neighbors have at fences -- It's time o' year for Hay. And Broad -- Sunburned Acquaintance Discourse between the Toil -- And laugh, a homely species That makes the Fences smile -- It seems so straight to lie away From all of the noise of Fields -- The Busy Carts -- the fragrant Cocks -- The Mower's Metre -- Steals -- A Trouble lest they're homesick -- Those Farmers -- and their Wives -- Set separate from the Farming -- And all the Neighbors' lives --
DreamyEmily Dickinson

Angels, in the early morning

Angels, in the early morning May be seen the Dews among, Stooping -- plucking -- smiling -- flying -- Do the Buds to them belong? Angels, when the sun is hottest May be seen the sands among, Stooping -- plucking -- sighing -- flying -- Parched the flowers they bear along.
ContemplativeEmily Dickinson

Like Rain it sounded till it curved

Like Rain it sounded till it curved And then I new 'twas Wind -- It walked as wet as any Wave But swept as dry as sand -- When it had pushed itself away To some remotest Plain A coming as of Hosts was heard It filled the Wells, it pleased the Pools It warbled in the Road -- It pulled the spigot from the Hills And let the Floods abroad -- It loosened acres, lifted seas The sites of Centres stirred Then like Elijah rode away Upon a Wheel of Cloud.
ContemplativeEmily Dickinson

I know a place where Summer strives

I know a place where Summer strives With such a practised Frost -- She -- each year -- leads her Daisies back -- Recording briefly -- "Lost" -- But when the South Wind stirs the Pools And struggles in the lanes -- Her Heart misgives Her, for Her Vow -- And she pours soft Refrains Into the lap of Adamant -- And spices -- and the Dew -- That stiffens quietly to Quartz -- Upon her Amber Shoe --
ContemplativeEmily Dickinson

How Human Nature dotes

How Human Nature dotes On what it can't detect. The moment that a Plot is plumbed Prospective is extinct -- Prospective is the friend Reserved for us to know When Constancy is clarified Of Curiosity -- Of subjects that resist Redoubtablest is this Where go we -- Go we anywhere Creation after this?

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