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poesie

Too happy Time dissolves itself

Too happy Time dissolves itself
And leaves no remnant by -
'Tis Anguish not a Feather hath
Or too much weight to fly -

Dear March — Come in

Dear March — Come in —
How glad I am —
I hoped for you before —

Put down your Hat —
You must have walked —
How out of Breath you are —
Dear March, Come right up the stairs with me —

Love's Baptism

I'm ceded, I've stopped being theirs ;
The name they dropped upon my face
With water, in the country church,
Is finished using now,
And they can put it with my dolls,

A Summer Wish

Live all thy sweet life thro',
Sweet Rose, dew-sprent,
Drop down thine evening dew
To gather it anew
When day is bright:
I fancy thou wast meant
Chiefly to give delight.

Rest

A rest remaineth; is then rest so good?
The hope of weariness, a promise sweet
To labouring souls, but wherefore rest in Heaven?

Deeper than any thought of man,
Sweeter than any dream of man,

The Return of Hyperion

The dungeon-clefts of Tartarus
Are close beyond the mountains
That are bound like a giant's girdle
About the unstirred, unbreathing east.
Alike on mountain and plain

The tower-room

There is a room serene and fair,
All palpitant with light and air;
Free from the dust, world’s noise and fuss -
God’s Tower-room in each of us.

Oh! many a stair our feet must press,

Our Little Ghost

Louisa May Alcott

OFT, in the silence of the night,
When the lonely moon rides high,
When wintry winds are whistling,
And we hear the owl's shrill cry,
In the quiet, dusky chamber,

Old Ironsides

Ay, tear her tattered ensign down!
Long has it waved on high,
And many an eye has danced to see
That banner in the sky;
Beneath it rung the battle shout,

On the Sea

It keeps eternal whisperings around
Desolate shores, and with its mighty swell
Gluts twice ten thousand caverns, till the spell
Of Hecate leaves them their old shadowy sound.

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