Which misses most - The hand that tends Or heart so gently borne, 'Tis twice as heavy as it was Because the hand is gone? Which blesses most The lip that can, Or that that went to sleep With "if I could" endeavoring Without the strength to shape?
Upon the gallows hung a wretch, Too sullied for the hell To which the law entitled him. As nature's curtain fell The one who bore him tottered in, - For this was woman's son. "'Twere all I had", she stricken gasped - Oh, what a livid boon.
'Twas here my summer paused What ripeness after then To other scene or other soul My sentence had begun. To winter to remove With winter to abide Go manacle your icicle Against your Tropic Bride.
To lose thee - sweeter than to gain All other hearts I knew. 'Tis true the drought is destitute, But then, I had the dew! The Caspian has it's realms of sand, It's other realm of sea. Without the sterile perquisite, No Caspian could be.
My friend must be a Bird - Because it flies! Mortal, my friend must be - Because it dies! Barbs has it, like a Bee! Ah, curious friend! Thou puzzlest me!
Went up a year this evening! I recollect it well! Amid no bells nor bravoes The bystanders will tell! Cheerful - as to the village - Tranquil - as to repose - Chastened - as to the Chapel This humble Tourist rose! Did not talk of returning! Alluded to no time When, were the gales propitious - We might look for him! Was grateful for the Roses In life's diverse bouquet - Talked softly of new species To pick another day; Beguiling thus the wonder The wondrous nearer drew - Hands bustled at the moorings - The crowd respectful grew - Ascended from our vision To countenances new! A Difference - A Daisy - Is all the rest I knew!
Angels, in the early morning May be seen the Dews among, Stooping - plucking - smiling - flying - Do the Buds to them belong? Angels, when the sun is hottest May be seen the sands among, Stooping - plucking - sighing - flying - Parched the flowers they bear along.
My nosegays are for Captives - Dim - long expectant eyes - Fingers denied the plucking, Patient till Paradise - To such, if they sh'd whisper Of morning and the moor - They bear no other errand, And I, no other prayer.