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now

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,

Past Carin

NOW up and down the siding brown
The great black crows are flyin’,
And down below the spur, I know,
Another ‘milker’s’ dyin’;
The crops have withered from the ground,

Poem on the Death of Oliver Cromwell

Cromwell is dead, and risen; and dead again,
And risen the third time after he was slain
No wonder! For he’s messenger of Hell:
And now he buffets us, now posts to tell

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