Pain has but one Acquaintance
Pain has but one Acquaintance
And that is Death --
Each one unto the other
Society enough.
Pain is the Junior Party
By just a Second's right --
Death tenderly assists Him
And then absconds from Sight.
Poems on the topic: transience
Poems on the topic “transience” on Poets.by.
Some, too fragile for winter winds
Some, too fragile for winter winds
The thoughtful grave encloses --
Tenderly tucking them in from frost
Before their feet are cold.
Never the treasures in her nest
The cautious grave exposes,
Building where schoolboy dare not look,
And sportsman is not bold.
This covert have all the children
Early aged, and often cold,
Sparrow, unnoticed by the Father --
Lambs for whom time had not a fold.
The Veins of other Flowers
The Veins of other Flowers
The Scarlet Flowers are
Till Nature leisure has for Terms
As "Branch," and "Jugular."
We pass, and she abides.
We conjugate Her Skill
While She creates and federates
Without a syllable.
To her derided Home
To her derided Home
A Weed of Summer came --
She did not know her station low
Nor Ignominy's Name --
Bestowed a summer long
Upon a frameless flower --
Then swept as lightly from disdain
As Lady from her Bower --
Of Bliss the Codes are few --
As Jesus cites of Him --
"Come unto me" the moiety
That wafts the Seraphim --
A Door just opened on a street --
A Door just opened on a street --
I -- lost -- was passing by --
An instant's Width of Warmth disclosed --
And Wealth -- and Company.
The Door as instant shut -- And I --
I -- lost -- was passing by --
Lost doubly -- but by contrast -- most --
Informing -- misery --
The Butterfly upon the Sky,
The Butterfly upon the Sky,
That doesn't know its Name
And hasn't any tax to pay
And hasn't any Home
Is just as high as you and I,
And higher, I believe,
So soar away and never sigh
And that's the way to grieve --
Said Death to Passion
Said Death to Passion
"Give of thine an Acre unto me."
Said Passion, through contracting Breaths
"A Thousand Times Thee Nay."
Bore Death from Passion
All His East
He -- sovereign as the Sun
Resituated in the West
And the Debate was done.
The stem of a departed Flower
The stem of a departed Flower
Has still a silent rank.
The Bearer from an Emerald Court
Of a Despatch of Pink.
When Memory is full
When Memory is full
Put on the perfect Lid --
This Morning's finest syllable
Presumptuous Evening said --
Of Life to own --
Of Life to own --
From Life to draw --
But never tough the reservoir --
The One who could repeat the Summer day
The One who could repeat the Summer day --
Were greater than itself -- though He
Minutest of Mankind should be --
And He -- could reproduce the Sun --
At period of going down --
The Lingering -- and the Stain -- I mean --
When Orient have been outgrown
And Occident -- become Unknown --
His Name -- remain --
A Dead Rose
O Rose! who dares to name thee?
No longer roseate now, nor soft, nor sweet;
But pale, and hard, and dry, as stubble-wheat,---
Kept seven years in a drawer---thy titles shame thee.
The breeze that used to blow thee
Between the hedgerow thorns, and take away
An odour up the lane to last all day,---
If breathing now,---unsweetened would forego thee.
The sun that used to smite thee,
And mix his glory in thy gorgeous urn,
Till beam appeared to bloom, and flower to burn,---
If shining now,---with not a hue would light thee.
The dew that used to wet thee,
And, white first, grow incarnadined, because
It lay upon thee where the crimson was,---
If dropping now,---would darken where it met thee.
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