Poems for Monday, June 20

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1127

Soft as the massacre of Suns
By Evening's sabres slain

1263

There is no Frigate like a Book
To take us Lands away
Nor any Coursers like a Page
Of prancing Poetry -
This Traverse may the poorest take
Without oppress of Toll -
How frugal is the Chariot
That bears the Human Soul -


1265

The most triumphant Bird I ever knew or met
Embarked upon a Twig Today
And till Dominion set
I famish to behold so eminent a sight
And sang for nothing scrutable
But intimate Delight.
Retired, and resumed his transitive Estate -
To what delicious Accident
Does finest Glory fit!


1442

To mend each tattered Faith
There is a needle fair
Though no appearance indicate -
'Tis threaded in the Air -

And though it do not wear
As if it never Tore
'Tis very comfortable indeed
And spacious as before -


1549

My Wars are laid away in Books -
I have one Battle more -
A Foe whom I have never seen
But oft has scanned me o'er -
And hesitated me between
And others at my side,
But chose the best - Neglecting me - till
All the rest, have died -
How sweet if I am not forgot
By Chums that passed away -
Since Playmates at threescore and ten
Are such a scarcity -


1660

Glory is that bright tragic thing
That for an instant
Means Dominion
Warms some poor name
That never felt the Sun
Gently replacing
In oblivion -


1765

That Love is all there is
Is all we know of Love;
It is enough, the freight should be
Proportioned to the groove.