Where were all the butterflies
When the skies
Clouded and their bowers of clover
Bowed beneath the golden shower?
Shook and the rose was brimming over.
THE stir of children with fresh dresses on,
And men who meet and say unguarded words,
And women from the coops
Of drudgeries released;
1. Thou hast made me endless, such is thy pleasure. This frail vessel thou emptiest again and again, and fillest it ever with fresh life.
She said she was sorry the weather was badThe night that she asked us to dine;
As when desire, long darkling, dawns, and firstThe mother looks upon the newborn child,
Come, happy people! Oh come let us tellThe story of Washington and Lincoln!
Is life worth living? Yes, so long As Spring revives the year,
We have all been in rooms
We cannot die in, and they are odd places, and sad.
Often Indians are standing eagle-armed on hills
The night lamp is faintly gleaming Within my chamber still,
Ah! what can be flowers in their gladness to me,
Or the voices that people the green forest tree,
Or the full joy of streamssince my soul sighs, ah me!
Oer the grave of my Mary.
The lilacs wither in the Carolinas.
Already the butterflies flutter above the cabins.
Already the new-born children interpret love
In the voices of mothers.
'Twas early day - and sunlight stream'd Soft through a quiet room,
Oh! say not, dream not, heavenly notes
To childish ears are vain,
That the young mind at random floats,
And cannot reach the strain.
Whereas, this Reprobation Doctrine, here,Not only Sense and Reason would cashier;
I never saw a Purple Cow, I never hope to see one; But I can tell you, anyhow, I'd rather see than be one.
O Lord our God, we are strangers before Thee, and sojourners, as were
all our fathers: our days on the earth are as a shadow, and there is
Prince, though our children laugh "Ho! Ho!"
At us who gleefully would fall
For acts that played the Long Ago,
Into the night go one and all.
SIRE, son, and grandson; so the century glides;
Three lives, three strides, three foot-prints in the sand;
Silent as midnight's falling meteor slides
Into the stillness of the far-off land;
How dim the space its little arc has spanned!
Have I not voyaged, friend beloved, with theeOn the great waters of the unsounded sea,
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