Because life's passing show
Is little to his mind,
There is a man I know
Indrawn from human kind.
His dearest friends are books;
Yet oh how glad he talks
To birds and trees and brooks
On lonely walks.
He takes the same still way
By grove and hill and sea;
......
I
Ancestral Houses
SURELY among a rich man s flowering lawns,
Amid the rustle of his planted hills,
Life overflows without ambitious pains;
And rains down life until the basin spills,
And mounts more dizzy high the more it rains
As though to choose whatever shape it wills
And never stoop to a mechanical
Or servile shape, at others' beck and call.
......
We will make our meek adjustments,
Contented with such random consolations
As the wind deposits
In slithered and too ample pockets.
For we can still love the world, who find
A famished kitten on the step, and know
Recesses for it from the fury of the street,
Or warm torn elbow coverts.
......
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
''Tis some visitor,' I muttered, 'tapping at my chamber door-
Only this, and nothing more.'
Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow;- vainly I had sought to borrow
......
A bunch of the boys were whooping it up in the Malamute saloon;
The kid that handles the music-box was hitting a jag-time tune;
Back of the bar, in a solo game, sat Dangerous Dan McGrew,
And watching his luck was his light-o'-love, the lady that's known as Lou.
When out of the night, which was fifty below, and into the din and the glare,
There stumbled a miner fresh from the creeks, dog-dirty, and loaded for bear.
He looked like a man with a foot in the grave and scarcely the strength of a louse,
Yet he tilted a poke of dust on the bar, and he called for drinks for the house.
There was none could place the stranger's face, though we searched ourselves for a clue;
......
Slipping.
Faster and faster.
Why won't you stay.
You don't need to go any faster.
I can keep up.
Promise me you will wait.
My hand is slipping may we please go slower.
Your hand moving away faster.
Please I want to hold onto you longer.
You're letting me go.
......
I look at stars alone
I find it nice but alone
Am I fine being alone ?
But stars do bright shine;
But are they alone ?
I better befriend sun !
I bet it’ll be fun
Since he and I are shun
Alone amidst many
But I guess
......
i was the moon, soft and steadfast,
lighting the way when the world grew dark,
whispering light into heavy hearts,
a quiet companion, never too far.
i cheered for the stars as they blazed their trails,
watched them shine and heard their tales.
i clapped for the sun, so bold, so bright,
though it never turned to share its light.
......
In winter's shroud, the moon arises, a sage,
Clad in robes of frost, her visage grave and pale.
She wanders 'mongst the sleeping, barren age,
A silent sentry in the velvet veil.
Her gaze, a shepherd's crook, guides weary souls,
Through nights of ice and desolation's hold.
Beneath her lantern, fields of snow unroll,
Where silence whispers tales of ancient scrolls.
......
By learning you, I’m deceiving me,
As common ground sprouts unfound knowing…
But how can I find you relatable?
When I can only see what’s showing?
The limits of your introspection
Prevent you from learning your own brain,
While your narrow means of expression
Dictates the parts you share and explain
......