Short Poems

O where is it, the wilderness,
The wildness of the wilderness?
Where is it, the wilderness?

*****And wander in the wilderness;In the weedy wilderness,Wander in the wilderness.

" Boughs being pruned, birds preened, show more fair;
To grace them spires are shaped with corner squinches;┬░
Enriched posts are chamfer'd; everywhere┬░
He heightens worth who guardedly diminishes;
Diamonds are better cut; who pare, repair;
Is statuary rated by its inches?
Thus we shall profit, while gold coinage still
Is worth and current with a lessen'd mill."┬░

Tomorrow meet you? O not tomorrow.
I would not make the trial.
Fear hindrance and espial
*And after that sad sorrow.
But with a sweet persistency
He dallies yet and yet with me
And will not take denial.* [or Then severance and sorrow.]

All as that moth call'd Underwing, alighted,
Pacing and turning, so by slips discloses
Her sober simple coverlid underplighted┬░
To colour as smooth and fresh as cheeks of roses,
Her showy leaves staid watchet counterfoiling
Her showy leaves with gentle watchet foiling
Even so my thought the rose and grey disposes

Proved Etherege prudish, selfish, hypocrite, heartless,
No scholar, a would be critic, a dillentante ,
Cream-laid, a surface, who could quote, to startle us,
The Anatomy , Politian, a little Dante, —
And so forth. Then for his looks — like pinkish paper:
Features? A watermark; other claims as scanty.
In such wise did the gentle . . . vapour.

On fields oer which the reaper's hand has passed,
Lit by the harvest moon and autumn sun,
My thoughts like stubble floating in the wind
And of such fineness as October airs,
There after harvest could I glean my life
A richer harvest reaping without toil,
And weaving gorgeous fancies at my will
In subtler webs than finest summer haze.

Late I fell in the ecstacy
And saw the men before the flood┬░
Which once were disobedient

O king, if you make an end of me, a lawful person
and a doer of utterly no harm to man, you easily take away
one of the wisest of heads, but later you will perceive
just as before; surely at last, you will grieve vainly and exceedingly
because you have destroyed such a greatly renowned bulwark from out of the city.

— Hill,
Heaven and every field, are still
As a self-embraced sweet thought:
— - — -caress'd — — — — :
And the thin stars tremble not.
— — lessen'd stars ray — .

What seems a soul where Love's outside the porch,
A house by night with neither fire nor torch.