Poems: 2nd series

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Roberts Brothers, 1891 - American poetry - 230 pages
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Page 39 - I like to see it lap the Miles And lick the Valleys up And stop to feed itself at Tanks And then - prodigious step Around a Pile of Mountains And supercilious peer In Shanties - by the sides of Roads And then a Quarry pare To fit its...
Page 27 - Hope is the thing with feathers That perches in the soul, And sings the tune without the words, And never stops at all, And sweetest in the gale is heard; And sore must be the storm That could abash the little bird That kept so many warm. I've heard it in the chillest land, And on the strangest sea; Yet, never, in extremity, It asked a crumb of me.
Page 214 - One need not be a Chamber - to be Haunted One need not be a House The Brain has Corridors - surpassing Material Place Far safer, of a Midnight Meeting External Ghost Than its interior Confronting That Cooler Host.
Page 222 - It was not Death, for I stood up, And all the Dead, lie down It was not Night, for all the Bells Put out their Tongues, for Noon. It was not Frost, for on my Flesh > I felt Siroccos - crawl Nor Fire - for just my marble feet Could keep a Chancel, cool And yet, it tasted, like them all, The Figures I have seen...
Page 113 - Has it feathers like a bird? Is it brought from famous countries Of which I have never heard? Oh, some scholar! Oh, some sailor! Oh, some wise man from the skies! Please to tell a little pilgrim Where the place called morning lies!
Page 125 - To hear an Oriole sing May be a common thing — Or only a divine. It is not of the Bird Who sings the same, unheard, As unto Crowd — The Fashion of the Ear Attireth that it hear In Dun, or fair — So whether it be Rune, Or whether it be none Is of within. The "Tune is in the Tree — " The Skeptic — showeth me — "No Sir! In Thee!
Page 89 - When that which is and that which was Apart, intrinsic, stand, And this brief tragedy of flesh Is shifted like a sand ; When figures show their royal front And mists are carved away, — Behold the atom I preferred To all the lists of clay ! II.
Page 94 - Going to him! Happy letter! Tell him — Tell him the page I didn't write; Tell him I only said the syntax, And left the verb and the pronoun out.
Page 140 - A BIRD came down the walk : •^ He did not know I saw ; He bit an angle-worm in halves And ate the fellow, raw. And then he drank a dew From a convenient grass, And then hopped sidewise to the wall To let a beetle pass. He glanced with rapid eyes That hurried all...
Page 168 - As imperceptibly as Grief The Summer lapsed away — Too imperceptible at last To seem like Perfidy — A Quietness distilled As Twilight long begun, Or Nature spending with herself Sequestered Afternoon — The Dusk drew earlier in — The Morning foreign shone — A courteous, yet harrowing Grace, As Guest, that would be gone — And thus, without a Wing Or service of a Keel Our summer made her light escape Into the Beautiful.

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