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People
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I noticed people disappeared,
When but a little child,-
Supposed they visited remote,
Or settled regions wild.
Now know I they both visited
And settled regions wild,
But did because they died, - a fact
Withheld the little child! |
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(Found just prior to my father's death.) |
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The Grass |
The grass so little has to do,
A sphere of simple green,
With only butterflies to brood,
And bees to entertain,
And stir all day to pretty tunes
The breezes fetch along,
And hold the sunshine in its lap
And bow to everything;
And thread the dews all night, like pearls,
And make itself so fine,...... |
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(Also to my father) |
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The Bee
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Like trains of cars on tracks of
plush
I hear the level bee:
A jar across the flowers goes,
Their velvet masonryWithstands until the sweet assault
Their chivalry consumes,
While he, victorious, tilts away
To vanquish other blooms.
His feet are shod with gauze,
His helmet is of gold:
His breast, a single onyx
With chrysoprase, inlaid.
His labor is a chant,
His idleness a tune;
Oh, for a bee's experience
Of clovers and of noon! |
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No Life But This
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I have no life but
this,
To lead it here;
Nor any death, but lest
Dispelled from there:Nor tie to earths to come
Nor action new,
Except through this extent,
The realm of You. |
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