"Why do I love" You, Sir?
"Why do I love" You, Sir?
Because--
The Wind does not require the Grass
To answer—Wherefore when He pass
She cannot keep Her place.
Because He knows—and
Do not You--
And We know not--
Enough for Us
The Wisdom it be so--
The Lightning—never asked an Eye
Wherefore it shut—when He was by--
Because He knows it cannot speak--
And reasons not contained--
—Of Talk--
There be—preferred by Daintier Folk--
The Sunrise—Sire—compelleth Me--
Because He's Sunrise—and I see--
Therefore—Then--
I love Thee—
Because--
The Wind does not require the Grass
To answer—Wherefore when He pass
She cannot keep Her place.
Because He knows—and
Do not You--
And We know not--
Enough for Us
The Wisdom it be so--
The Lightning—never asked an Eye
Wherefore it shut—when He was by--
Because He knows it cannot speak--
And reasons not contained--
—Of Talk--
There be—preferred by Daintier Folk--
The Sunrise—Sire—compelleth Me--
Because He's Sunrise—and I see--
Therefore—Then--
I love Thee—
"I want"—it pleaded—All its life
"I want"—it pleaded—All its life--
I want—was chief it said
When Skill entreated it—the last--
And when so newly dead--
I could not deem it late—to hear
That single—steadfast sigh--
The lips had placed as with a "Please"
Toward Eternity—
I want—was chief it said
When Skill entreated it—the last--
And when so newly dead--
I could not deem it late—to hear
That single—steadfast sigh--
The lips had placed as with a "Please"
Toward Eternity—
"Heaven"—is what I cannot reach!
"Heaven"—is what I cannot reach!
The Apple on the Tree--
Provided it do hopeless—hang--
That—"He aven" is—to Me!
The Color, on the Cruising Cloud--
The interdicted Land--
Behind the Hill—the House behind--
There—Paradise—is found!
Her teasing Purples—Afternoons--
The credulous—decoy--
Enamored—of the Conjuror--
That spurned us—Yesterday!
The Apple on the Tree--
Provided it do hopeless—hang--
That—"He aven" is—to Me!
The Color, on the Cruising Cloud--
The interdicted Land--
Behind the Hill—the House behind--
There—Paradise—is found!
Her teasing Purples—Afternoons--
The credulous—decoy--
Enamored—of the Conjuror--
That spurned us—Yesterday!
"Hope" is the thing with feathers
"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
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
"Faith" is a fine invention
"Faith" is a fine invention
When Gentlemen can see--
But Microscopes are prudent
In an Emergency.
When Gentlemen can see--
But Microscopes are prudent
In an Emergency.